Onun coşup köpürmesi denizden değildir; pek değerli, eşsiz bir incidir o.
Yüzü altın gibidir amma bu madenden de değildir o.
Gönül can padişahının aşkıyla nerden padişahlık isteyecek? O kemerin şehidi olan can, nerden kaftan isteğine düşecek?
Dünyayı devlet kuşu kaplasa, âşık hiçbirinin gölgesini istemez; çünkü o, o ünlü devlet kuşunun aşkına düşmüştür, o aşkla sarhoş olup gitmiştir.
Dünya şekerlerle dolsa, âşık, sevgili hayır, olmaz der de o şekerden ayrılırım diye gene de ney gibi ağlar durur.
Tebrizli Şemseddin’in yüzünden aşk ülkesinde yurt edinmişim; yarabbi, böyle bir padişah neden yolculuğa düşer deyip duruyorum.
Sarhoşların başları sarhoğlukla bir kere daha secdeye kapandı; yoksa o canların çalgıcısı, perde ardından çalgı çalmaya mı başladı?
Baş çekenler, canlarıyla oynayanlar bir kere daha coştular; varlık yokluğa gitti, yokluk varlık âlemine geldi.
Dünya bir kere daha İsrâfil’in üfürdüğü Sür sesiyle doldu; gizliliklere emin olan, meydana çıktı; cana azık geldi.
Toprağın cüzlerine bak; hepsi de taze can buldu; topraklığı tertemiz oldu; ziyanlar tümden fayda kesildi.
O âlemde renk yoktur; fakat şu kırmızı, mavi, renklere bulanmış candan ışık gibi vurmuştur da göze görünür.
Bedenin payı şu renkten verilir, canın payıysa şu tattır; nitekim mutfaktaki ateşten tencerenin payı dumandır ancak.
Yan yakıl a gönül; ham oldukça ödağacı kokusu gelmez senden; nerde gördün sen ateşe atılmadıkça koku versin ödağacı?
Koku boyuna ödağacındadır; ne bir başka yere gider, ne bir başka yerden gelir; fakat biri çıkar, geç geldi der; öbürü tutar, tez geldi der.
Padişahlar padişahı, saftan kaçmadı; fakat giyindiği zırh bir perde oluyor; Ay gibi yüzünü nazar değmesin diye halktan Örtmede.
Divân-ı Kebir
Bir güzel ki bütün gece Zithre’ye, Ay’a igveler öğretmede; iki gözü büyücülükle gökyüzünün gözünü bağlamada.
A Müslümanlar, bâri siz gönüllerinizi koruyun; çünkü ben onunla öylesine karıldım, birleştim ki gönül benimle karılamıyor, birleşemiyor artık.
Önce aşktan doğdum, sonunda tuttum, gönlümü ona verdim; hani meyve gibi; daldan biter de sonra dala asılır kalır.
Işığı gizliyor diye kendi gölgemden kaçıyorum; gölgesinden kaçanın nerde kararı olacak?
Saçları, nerde bir iple oynayan canbaz, tez gelsin diyor; muma benzeyen yüzü, nerde bir pervane ki gelsin, yaksın kendini deyip duruyor.
 gönül, şu canbazlık için yürekli ol, tutsak ol gitsin; mumu alevlendi mi, at kendini ateşe.
Yanmadaki tadı duyarsan ateşe dayanamazsın; abıhayat gelse ateşten ayıramaz seni.
Mevlânâ
Şimşek gibi bir şey çakıyor; acaba o gönüller alan sevgili mi ki? O köşeden parlayan ne; acaba o lâ’l madeni mi?
O incinin çevresindeki ne? Ay mı, yıldız mı? Nurdan bir kandil gibi gökten sarkıtılmış, muallâkta durmada.
Acaba can kandili mi, Direfş-i Gâvyân? mi? Yoksa Igi-gina son olmayan o can mumu mu?
A gönül, bir bag çıkar, gözlerin pek aydindir senin, gézlerini ov da bir iyice bak; ne görürsen ondan ibaret.
Ondan inciler sagar bir hale geldin mi, izinin tozu belirmez artık; iyi belle şu belirtiyi; aramızda bir alâmet olsun bu.
Onun yalımını, onun parlaklığını gördün mü, kanadının alına gir, yok ol; çünkü verimli yumurta da tavuğun altında olur.
Biz ortaya çıktık mı, o çekilir bizden; fakat biz çekilip gittik mi, o çıkar ortaya.
Durur görünür, hareket eder, oynar; fakat ne durur, ne oynar; mekânda görünür, fakat gerçekte mekânsızdır o.
Suyu oynattin mı, onun suya vurmuş ışığı da oynar, öyle görürsün sen; fakat o gökyüzündedir.
Ne odur, ne bu; Tanrı’nın, dinin salâhıdır o; solukdasin eminse, o filândır diye söyle.
Divân-ı Kebir
Sormak ayıp olmasın amma evin nerde senin? Bir tarif et, bulabilirsek devletine konduk gitti.
” Sen dünyanın güneşi olasın da sonra bizden gizlenesin; yakışır mı bu sence; yakışır dersen pekâlâ; bizce de yakışır.
Ben vefalıyım demedin amma gene de vefa ummada-yım senden; fakat bir betime benzime bak; vefa mıdır bu ettiğin?
Gel a lâ’l dudaklı sevgili, gönlüm bedenimden kayboldu; gönlüm senden dağlı; mutlaka senin yanında olacak.
(c. I, s. 49) Bu ateşte yanıp kavruluyorum; harap mı harabım; fakat a güzeller padişahı, bir beden başsız kalmış, ne çıkar ki?
Gönlüm canın ayrılığıyla başı ezilmiş yılan gibi kıvranıyor; senin çevrende değirmen gibi dönüyor.
I said: O poor-hearted one, come, sit in your place; keep away from the fire full of hatred; my heart said: Let it be.
My caution was bewildered; come, O beloved who takes my sleep away during the nights; ask about my Kashmirian king, perhaps a familiar face will appear.
He is already both manifest and hidden; the world’s form, yet he is the soul; think a moment, how can this king be, unless he is the light of God?
Every drunkard’s intoxication comes from the wine cup; you are a myrrh tree; every iron’s quick movement is because of you.
You have bought the heart’s house; you know, the heart is yours; whatever is in the house belongs to the house owner.
Throw out of the house the cloth that is not yours; what business does a dog’s skin have in the Mosque of Aksâ?
O heart of the world, capturing hearts is your job; giving life to the soul is yours alone; that breath exists only in you.
Mevlânâ
Splitting the sea is a quickness of Musa; but tearing the robe of the Moon, splitting the Moon in two is Mustafâ’s task.
Love causes such a fit that the people take the mountain’s path; only those who seek poverty remain in the city.
Let this fire be thrown into the forest, all the game animals will flee; only Ibrahim will turn to us, if he does not flee from the fire.
Silent, be brief, O memory; if the lover has vanished from the king’s temple, then all your previous knowledge and your later knowledge will have been explained.
Divân-ı Kebir
I have a sorrow with joy; joy will be mine; I have a word with the beloved; the beloved will take my life away.
The king wrote a decree with his own hand and gave it to me; as long as the throne is there, as long as fortune is there, I will be his king.
Whether I am sober or drunk, no one else will take my hand; even if I were to wound my hand, you would be my healing.
Have I not fallen into the limits of thought, wandering around my city’s surroundings? If my Lord is there, can my sovereignty ever be taken away?
Because of the beauty of your red lips, why should I not see my face turn pale? Because of my epic, even Rostam will give up his life before me.
Because my Zuhayl star is there, I will break the ransom of Zuhre; I will pierce the Moon’s face; I will cover the sky’s dice;
I will tear the Moon’s robe; I will spill the king’s right hand; if they wish to make me pay, let them make him pay instead,
I do not live on the Sun’s wages, so I am the light of the sky; my field is the heart, therefore the ball is mine, the bat is mine.
Since I am in Joseph’s lap, Egypt is mine, the land of sugar is mine; if I am Kenan, why should I search for the Kenan land?
Neither beautiful nor good to look at, nor good to protect, nor good to help; since you are my certain proof, I will not easily silence any denier.
There is a soul in the world that is ashamed to take on a form; yet even so, it does not take on the form of a human; yet my human form is not there.
Mevlânâ
The moon has come, but I am a mad one in the divan; do not rattle my chains. Since the moon is at my table, every breath is a moon for me.
Tebriz’s Shems, who grants words to my tongue, is sufficient; you be silent, and let all languages play for me as the heart does.
. 582
Divân-ı Kebir
O one who has placed your head on my life, where is your house? O my bright Moon, where is your house?
O all-powerful, O all-conquering, O hidden from the body, present in the soul; O my hidden, beautiful one, where is your house?
You are as if the king’s palace; the hearts of those who long for something are in you; yet O my life, my heart, I have none; where is your house?
The moon casts a shadow; how can the shadow reach the one who casts it? I do not know, you tell me, O Moon; where is your house?
I saw the Moon’s trace; I wandered through hundreds of houses; save me from this search; where is your house?
Mevlânâ
XXXII
Know, O lovers, that the beloved with the moon’s face has come; immerse yourselves in delight, take the sign; the beloved has come to our embrace.
Wine-drinkers have been given torches; the drunkards have fallen into the task; they have adorned the assembly of the soul; wine that does not cause intoxication has come.
See the doom within the doom; behold the tall, beautiful one; because of her, the world has turned into paradise; thousands of springs have come.
Why does Abi Hayat scatter fire? Why is your soul’s calmness, your peace, disturbed and restless?
Come again, O wine-server, find a remedy for the lovers; because that beautiful one with the gazelle’s eyes, that one who drinks blood, has come to hunt like a lion.
The soul’s soul has come to the mouth, the cry of ‘help’ has filled every side; the armies of love have come and are pressing against the gate of the fortress.
The soul that has fallen into bad thoughts has taken the sword and the shroud, and goes to the temple, ashamed of the outcome of love.
What remains of me, neither before nor after, because the lover is already like a reed, and love is fire itself.
The grace of Shemseddin from Tebriz, when it bestows its favor, brings life to water, to the sky, to earth, to fire; all four become alive.
Divân-ı Kebir
XXXIV
Be informed, O rinters, that once again that gambling king has come; if he has a new trick, a new scheme, then tell me, whatever it was before, it is the same, it is he.
Who among the rinters can do this thing; let the king who drinks blood tie his belt once again at his temple of worship, and then say, behold, the matter is settled.
Come, O hand, quick to act; I have tied my belt once again; by the name of God, I swear, as long as I live, I shall choose love.
I saw your rose garden, and I became a thorn, and I bloomed like a rose; my thorns burned with love, and my rose came to spread itself upon you.
You provoke fitnas one after another; you never cease from fitna; but this time I have learned well, I have understood that my beloved is very orderly.
If my beloved strikes one cheek, I will turn the other to him; for the color of my cheeks becomes red from his hands, and shines brightly.
You are my king, and from eternity; this resting place is your heart; my life without you has become very weak; you do not say where you were.
Says the king: Do you think that I lost you in that desert; do you not know that my patience is the robe of Zül-fekaar.
He cut me, blood flowed, a gazel soaked in blood was born; Salâhaddin left me and came to this country.
Mevlânâ
XXXV
Send blessings upon the souls of those who are burning; a beautiful heart has come; that beautiful one is hammering gold, and my face is hammered silver.
Whoever does not give his heart to that beautiful one who possesses the beauty of the moon, let him swear by the earth where that beautiful one has stepped upon, that it is stone, that it is a tree.
He who flees from love, in truth, spills his own blood; does the sun ever sink beneath the face of a night bird?
Go, sweep this house clean, and see the beauty of that queen; walk, take the broom of poverty, for poverty is a very beautiful broom.
Your body is like earth; your breath is a pure seed. Your desires are like grubs, your soul is like grain to be eaten.
You have abandoned your vision, or did you see another dream; why is your wine so murky, so full of sediment?
What did you hear, what did you say; where did you lie down, sleep, during the night? Say; your color is the spy of your heart, it is telling these things constantly.
The Salâhaddin of Yakub, the man who gives jewels to the goldsmiths; he is the sun of secrets, he knows the hidden things.
Divân-ı Kebir
XXXVI
O heart, sit with one who knows the heart; go under the tree which bears the flowers of teriitaze.
These pleasant scents, do not go about like a jobless person in the marketplace where various goods are sold; sit in the shop of the one who sells sugar.
If there is no balance, then everyone goes their own way; one person thinks that the heart’s money is stars, and you think it is gold.
Say I am coming, and I will put a lock on the door for you; do not sit and stay at the door; that house has two doors.
Do not look at the boiling pot and bring your jar; sit and lean over; for in every boiling pot there is something else.
Not every reed has sugar, not every gold is on top; not every eye has vision, not every sea has pearls.
Cry, O nightingale who reads the epics of suffering; for the lamentations of the drunkards can even pierce the rocks, can even pierce the stones.
If you do not pass through the needle’s eye, let it pass through your head; if the thread does not pass through the needle, then it has a head, but it does not pass through.
This awake heart is a candle, hide it under your robe; protect it from the wind, from the air; for there are calamities in the air.
(c. IL s. 50) If you pass through the wind, sit at the head of a spring; you become a companion of one who has water in his lungs.
If you have water in your lungs, you become a green tree; that tree is on a journey from within, and it bears fruit again and again.
Mevlânâ
XXXVI
What scent is this, what fragrance; is it not my beloved coming; is it not my beloved with rosy cheeks coming from that rose garden?
Is it night, or the tree of the moon, or amber mixed with musk; or is it Yusuf coming from that market with such haste?
What light is this, what radiance; what moon is this, what sun? Is it not the friend who seeks solitude, coming from the mountain, from the cave?
Why are you searching for the wine skin, why are you sniffing at the mouth; did you think that he also comes from this tavern?
What harm is there if he walks alone towards the sun; does the king’s cry become deficient if he comes without a turban?
What did this heart drink in that gathering, that it is covered in mud like the drunkards; coming from that tavern, staggering, swaying, and falling?
Sleep tonight, sleep tonight; watch for an opportunity, catch him; for such a kind of drunkard comes often to this gathering.
If he goes out with the staff of Selvi, the world becomes a rose garden; if he shows himself, the day of judgment comes.
We are all like the pictures on the wall; when the light of the one who painted us strikes us, then we begin to play.
Sometimes I wander around like Calinos in the neighborhood of the sick; sometimes I fall ill from lying, and come running, weeping and wailing.
I kept silent, I kept silent; this poetry of mine, this divan of mine, is ashamed before that face of the fairy, and thus it is compelled to repent and to seek forgiveness for its sin.
Divân-ı Kebir
XXXVI
I need such a beloved that my soul clings to her; I need such a musician that I must die before Zühre’s face.
I have a heart that laughs at the sea; I have a mad, dervish heart that accepts neither bonds nor advice.
God, I have a soul that you know, which cannot endure to wait for you; no fish, even for a breath, remains in the water.
How beautiful a being there is, how beautiful my drunkenness; you are existence, I am drunkenness.
Come to yourself and be silent, come to yourself and be silent now; you have chosen such a love that it constantly gives a joy without rivalry, and accepts everything without refusal.
Mevlânâ
XXXIX
It is necessary to fall into a passion; if the head becomes empty, what is it? The soul is for seeing; a soul without vision, what is it?