Poem XX

1Grasp the skirt of his favour, for on a sudden he will flee;But draw him not, as an arrow, for he will flee from the bow.

2What delusive forms does he take, what tricks does he invent!If he is present in form, he will flee by the way of spirit.

3Seek him in the sky, he shines in water, like the moon;When you come into the water, he will flee to the sky.

4Seek him in the placeless, he will sign you to place;When you seek him in place, he will flee to the placeless.

5As the arrow speeds from the bow, like the bird of your imagination,Know that the Absolute will certainly flee from the Imaginary.

6I will flee from this and that, not for weariness, but for fearThat my gracious Beauty will flee from this and that.

7As the wind I am fleet of foot, from love of the rose I am like the zephyr;The rose in dread of autumn will flee from the garden.

8His name will flee, when it sees an attempt at speech,So that you cannot even say, ‘Such an one will flee.’

9He will flee from you, so that if you limn his picture,The picture will fly from the tablet, the impression will flee from the soul.