O my child, intellect is a shackle
on the foot of one who walks the Path.
Break the bond; the Way is open!
The intellect is a chain, the heart may
be deceptive, and even your soul is a veil –
the Path is hidden from all three.
When you lift the intellect, soul, and heart,
the station of nearness you reach is still subjective.
One who gets lost isn’t considered brave.
Love takes aim at the one who has no troubles.
Know that the arrow of the Friend is ready in the bow.
Make your chest a target in front of it.
Love isn’t the work of the tender and the gentle;
Love is the work of wrestlers.
The one who becomes a servant of lovers
is really a fortunate sovereign.
Don’t ask anyone about Love; ask Love alone about Love.
Love is a cloud that scatters pearls.
Love does need me to translate; it translates for itself.
If you journey to the seventh heaven, Love is a useful ladder.
Wherever a caravan journeys, Love is its qiblah.
May this universe not deceive you,
waylaying you from Love,
for this universe comes from you.
Let’s go! Close your mouth like mother of pearl.
Be silent, for this tongue of yours is the enemy of the soul.
O child, Shams of Tabriz has arrived;
the soul is full of joy
For the time has come to join in union with his sun.
– Rumi