Poem XLVII

1When I came to thy city, thou chosest a corner apart from me;When I went from thy city, thou didst not look upon me to say ‘Farewell’.

2Whether thou choosest to be kind or inclinest to rancour,Thou art all the comfort of the soul, thou art all the adornment of the feast.

3The cause of thy jealousy is that thou art hidden or, otherwise,While thou art revealed by every atom, thou art hidden like the sun.

4If thou dwell’st in seclusion, art not thou the darling of the Prince?And if thou rendest the veil, thou hast rent the veils of all.

5By thee the heart of infidelity is confounded, by thy wine the head of faith is intoxicated;Thou dost rob all of sense, thou dost draw all towards thee.

6All roses are a prey to December, all heads a prey to wine:Both these and those thou redeemest from the hand of death.

7Since in the rose there is no constancy, why do you approach every rose?On thee alone is reliance: thou art the stay and support.

8If a few cut their hands on account of Joseph’s face,Thou hast bereft of soul and reason two hundred spiritual Josephs.

9Thou mouldest of foul and fair the form of a man,That he may flee two leagues from the odour of foulness.

10Thou mak’st him a morsel of dust that he may become pure herbage;He is free from filth when thou hast breathed into him a soul.

11Come, O heart, fare heavenward, fare to the divine pasture,Since thou hast grazed awhile in the pasture of cattle.