It has not overleaped the limits of the sensible. 1480 It has fallen down in crossing the bridge of Life, It has laid the knife to its own throat. Having fire, it is yet cold as the tulip; Having flame, it is yet cold as hail. Its nature remains untouched by the glow of Love, 1485 It is ever engaged in a joyless search. Love is the Plato that heals the sicknesses of the mind:[101] The mind’s melancholy is cured by its lancet. The whole world bows in adoration to Love, Love is the Mahmúd that conquers the Somnath of intellect.[102] 1490 Modern science lacks this old wine in its cup, Its nights are not loud with passionate prayer. Thou hast misprized thine own cypress And deemed tall the cypress of others. Like the reed, thou hast emptied thyself of Self 1495 And given thine heart to the music of others. O thou that begg’st morsels from another’s table, Wilt thou seek thine own kind in another’s shop? The Moslem’s feast is burned up by the lamps of strangers, His mosque is consumed by the Christian monastery. 1500 When the deer fled from the sacred territory of Mecca, The hunter’s arrow pierced her side.[103] The leaves of the rose are scattered, like its scent: O thou that hast fled from thy Self, come back to it! O trustee of the wisdom of the Koran, 1505 Find thy lost unity again! We, who keep the gate of the citadel of Islam, Have become unbelievers by neglecting the watchword of Islam. The ancient Saki’s bowl is shattered, The wine-party of the Hijáz is broken up. 1510 The Ka`ba is filled with our idols, Infidelity mocks at our Islam. Our Sheikh hath gambled Islam away for love of idols And made a rosary of the _zunnár_.[104] Our spiritual directors owe their rank to their white hairs 1515 And are the laughing-stock of children in the street; Their hearts bear no impress of the Faith But house the idols of sensuality. Every long-haired fellow wears the garb of a dervish-- Alas for these traffickers in religion! 1520 Day and night they are travelling about with disciples, And ignoring their religious duties. Their eyes are without light, like the narcissus, Their breasts devoid of spiritual wealth. Preachers and Súfís, all worship worldliness alike; 1525 The prestige of the pure religion is ruined. Our preacher fixed his eyes on the pagoda And the mufti of the Faith sold his decision. After this, O friends, what are we to do? Our guide turns his face towards the wine-house. 1530 FOOTNOTES: [96] This appears to be a pseudonym assumed by the author. [97] Jalálu’ddín Rúmí. [98] Bábá Kamáluddín Jundí. For Shams-i Tabríz and his relation to Jalálu’ddín Rúmí see my _Selected Poems from the Diváni Shamsi Tabríz_ (Cambridge, 1898).