The glass of my patience and quietude was shattered;
The Sage of Rum spoke in my ear, ‘Rise up’.
Ah, those words of love, that ecstatic certainty!
Ah that court, that sublime palace; 3450
heart bleeding, I reached its gate
and beheld there a throng of houris,
on their lips, ‘Zinda-Rud, Zinda-Rud,
Zinda-Rud, master of fire and melody!’
Clamour and tumult rose from left and right: 3455
‘One or two moments sit with us. sit with us!’


The traveller who knows the secrets of the journey
fears the lodging-place more than the highwayman.
Love reposes not in separation, nor in union,
reposes not, without Eternal Beauty; 3460
first beginning, falling down before idols,
final end, freedom from all heart-ravishers.
Love recks for nothing, and is ever on the move,
a wayfarer in space and spacelessness.
Our creed, like the swift-paced wave: 3465
abandon the halting-place, choose the highway.

The Houris of Paradise

Your blandishments are like those of Time;
grudge us not now one sweet song.