LOVE THE SOURCE OF LIGHT RATHER THAN VANISHING FORM Whatsoever is perceived by sense He annuls, But He stablishes that which is hidden from the senses. The lover's love is visible, his Beloved hidden. The Friend is absent, the distraction He causes present. Renounce these affections for outward forms, Love depends not on outward form or face. Whatever is beloved is not a mere empty form, Whether your beloved be of the earth or heaven. Whatever is the form you have fallen in love with-- Why do you forsake it the moment life leaves it? The form[3] is still there; whence then this disgust at it? Ah! lover, consider well what is really your beloved. If a thing perceived by outward senses is the beloved, Then all who retain their senses must still love it; And since Love increases constancy, How can constancy fail while form abides? But the truth is, the sun's beams strike the wall, And the wall only reflects that borrowed light. Why give your heart to mere stones, O simpleton? Go! Seek the Source of Light which shineth alway! THE RELIGION OF LOVE The sect of lovers is distinct from all others, Lovers have a religion and a faith of their own. Though the ruby has no stamp, what matters it? Love is fearless in the midst of the sea of fear. "PAIN IS A TREASURE!" Pain is a treasure, for it contains mercies; The kernel is soft when the rind is scraped off. O brother, the place of darkness and cold Is the fountain of Life and the cup of ecstasy. So also is endurance of pain and sickness and disease. For from abasement proceeds exaltation. The spring seasons are hidden in the autumns, And the autumns are charged with springs. SPIRIT GREATER THAN FORM If spiritual manifestations had been sufficient, The creation of the world had been needless and vain. If spiritual thought were equivalent to love of God, Outward forms of temples and prayers would not exist. THE BELOVED COMPARED TO "A SWEET GARDEN" "We bow down our heads before His edict and ordinance, We stake precious life to gain His favour. While the thought of the Beloved fills our hearts, All our work is to do Him service and spend life for Him. Wherever He kindles His destructive torch, Myriads of lovers' souls are burnt therewith. The lovers who dwell within the sanctuary Are moths burnt with the torch of the Beloved's face." O heart, haste thither, for God will shine upon you, And seem to you a sweet garden instead of a terror. He will infuse into your soul a new Soul, So as to fill you, like a goblet, with wine. Take up your abode in His Soul! Take up your abode in heaven, O bright full moon! Like the heavenly Scribe, He will open your heart's book That He may reveal mysteries unto you. "BEHOLD THE WATER OF WATERS!"