Poem XLV

1Come, come, for you will not find another friend like me.Where indeed is a Beloved like me in all the world?

2Come, come, and do not spend your life in wandering to and fro,Since there is no market elsewhere for your money.

3You are as a dry valley and I as the rain,You are as a ruined city and I as the architect.

4Except my service, which is joy’s sunrise,Man never has felt and never will feel an impression of joy.

5You behold in dreams a thousand moving shapes;When the dream is past you do not see a single one of the kind.

6Close the eye that sees falsely and open the intellectual eye,For the senses resemble an ass, and evil desire is the halter.

7Seek sweet syrup in the garden of Love,For Nature is a seller of vinegar and a crusher of unripened grapes.

8Come to the hospital of your own Creator:No sick man can dispense with that Physician.

9The world without that King is like a headless body:Fold yourself, turban-wise, round such a head.

10Unless you are black, do not let the mirror go from your hand:The soul is your mirror, while the body is rust.

11Where is the fortunate merchant, whose destiny Jupiter controls,That I may eagerly trade with him and buy his wares?

12Come, and think of me who gave you the faculty of thought,Since from my mine you may purchase an ass-load of rubies.

13Come, advance towards him who gave you a foot,Look with all your eyes on him who gave you an eye.