THE PALM TREE OF SETTING FORTH THE EXCEL-LENCE OF BEING IN LOVE, AND THE BRANCH OF THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE REASON FOR THE COMPOSITION OF THE BOOK TO ATTACH TO IT.

That heart's no heart that is without love's pain:
Without it bodies moistened clay remain.
Tow'rds passion's pain thy face turn from the earth;
The world of passion is a world of mirth.
Of love's sweet pain may never heart be free,
On earth without love may man never be.
With passion's tumult full of strife the world,
The heav'ns from love's desire* are madly whirled.
Be passion's captive! Be this aye the thought,
That all the pious this pursuit have sought.
Be passion's captive, that thou mayst be free;
Lay on thy breast its burden, glad to be.
Love's wine with warmth and ardency will bless:
All else brings melancholy selfishness.
Freshness may lovers in love's memory claim;
In its recital aye gain greater fame.
Had Majnun of this cup not drunk the wine,
How in both worlds would thus his glory shine?
Both wise and good full many men have gone,
Who of love's passion naught have ever known,—
Their name remains not, and no trace as well;
In time's hand of them there's no tale to tell.
Sweet and melodious there is many a bird,
Whose tale from people's lips is never heard.
When feeling people tell of love the tale,
They speak of moths and of the nightingale.*
Though in the world thou many things essay,
Love only takes thee from thyself away.
Turn not thy face from love, though it be feigned;
Access to God's truth through it may be gained,
On board* the alphabet hast thou not read,
To learn the Korán how canst thou be led?
A pupil to his Pír* I once heard say,
That he should help him in the righteous way.
“Thy foot love's path has never trod,” said he.
“Go, be a lover: then come back to me.
“Of form the wine-cup until thou hast quaffed,
“Thou canst not taste of mystery the draught.*
“But in the form* thou shouldst not delay,
“Across the bridge but quickly take thy way.
“If at the stage thou wouldst lay down thy load,
“Thou shouldst not stand upon the bridge's road.
“Thanks be to God that, living in this cell,*
“Light on my love's path my footsteps ever fell.
“Without musk saw the nurse my navel's cord,—
“She quickly cut it of love with the sword.
“When to my lip my mother placed her breast,
“Love's sorrow in my mouth with milk she pressed.
“Though now my hair of milk is as the hue,
“That passion's flavour to my heart clings, too.
“Nothing in age and youth compares with love,
“And me its magic power will ever move.
“Jámi, since thou in love art growing gray,
“Be merry still, and in love pass away.
“Now of love's wantonness a tale relate,
“That in the world thy traces may be great.
“With point-creating pen a figure trace
“That when thou goest still may keep its place.”
From love when came this voice my ear to greet,
My sense met her without* with honour meet.
The girdle of obedience on my soul I bound,
And of enchantment a new mode I found.
Now if God give me favour, I agree,
And if my palm of truth should fruitful be,
Love's pain will I depict in subtle wise,
That wit shall burn the baggage of the wise—
Smoke will I spread throughout the azure sphere,
And the stars' eyes shall fill the swelling tear;
The word on such foundation will I place,
That it shall fill my heaven with thy grace.