Poem XI

1O Beloved, spiritual beauty is very fair and glorious,But thine own beauty and loveliness is another thing.

2O thou who art years describing spirit,Show one quality that is equal to his essence.

3Light waxes in the eye at the imagination of him,But in presence of his union it is dimmed.

4I stand open-mouthed in veneration of that beauty:‘God is most great’ is on my heart’s lips every moment.

5The heart hath gotten an eye constant in desire of thee,Oh, how that desire feeds heart and eye!

6’Tis slave-caressing thy love has practised;Else, where is the heart worthy of that love?

7Every heart that has slept one night in thy airIs like radiant day: thereby the air is illumined.

8Every one that is without object is as thy disciple:His object is gained without the semblance of object.

9Each reprobate who has burned in this love and fallen in it,Fell into Kaus̤ar: for thy love is Kaus̤ar.

10From hope of union my foot comes not to earth:While I am severed from thee, my hand is on my head.

11Be not sorrowful, O heart, at this oppression of enemies,And think on this, that the Sweetheart is judge.

12If the foe is rejoiced at my sallow face,This sallow face of mine is from the red rose.

13Since the beauty of my Beloved is beyond description,How fat is my grief and how lean my praise!