Poem XXVII

1If a tree might move by foot and wing,It would not suffer the pain of the saw or the blows of the axe.

2And if the sun did not fare by wing and foot every night,How would the world be illuminated at morning-tide?

3And if the salt water did not go up from the sea to the sky,Whence would the garden be quickened by river and rain?

4When the drop departed from its native home and returned,It found a shell and became a pearl.

5Did not Joseph go on a journey from his father, weeping?Did he not, in the journey, come to fortune and kingdom and victory?

6Did not Muṣṭafā go a-journeying toward Medina,Gain sovereignty and become lord of an hundred lands?

7Tho’ you have no feet choose to journey in yourself,Like the ruby-mine receive a print from the sunbeams.

8Make a journey out of self into self, O master,For by such a journey earth becomes a quarry of gold.

9From sourness and bitterness advance to sweetness,Even as from briny soil a thousand sorts of fruit spring up.

10From the Sun, the pride of Tabrīz, behold these miracles,For every tree gains beauty by the light of the sun.