It sees how arrogant and blind
The self that but its mortal self hath known.

Thou and I also were the seer and seen,
When none beside existed. Thou and I
Have Lover and Beloved been
Before this era of mortality.

How strange the turns in Love's unending game,
For neither Lover nor Beloved lit
The ever-burning flame:
Whence was the spirit that enkindled it?

The road that leads where pious pilgrims bow
In Kaaba or in Temple, Thou hast laid;
And first of all wert Thou
To tread the road that thou Thyself hadst made.

ZAHIR.




XLVII.


Thy beauty flashes like a sword
Serene and keen and merciless;
But great as is thy cruelty,
Even greater is thy loveliness.