Who says the eternal being does not exist?
Who says the sun has gone out?

Someone who climbs up on the roof, and closes his eyes tight,
and says, I don’t see anything.



When you feel your lips become infinite
and sweet, like the moon in a sky,
when you feel that spaciousness inside,
Shams of Tabriz will be there too.



A ruby with a sweet taste,
absorbing wine-light, I could tell you
the name of this grape, but why?
I serve one who keeps secrets.



Already tightly bound, we are wrapped with yet another chain.
We’ve lost everything, but here’s another disaster.
Held in the curls of your hair,
we feel a rope around our neck.