With all these many-faced I's and we's,
what sort of "I" am I?
Listen, take your hand off my mouth
and let me rave.
I'm already lost.
Don't lay shattered glass in my path;
I'll crush whatever's in my way.
With every breath my heart
is stupefied by the vision of You.
If You're happy, I'll be happy;
if You're sad, I'll be sad too.
If You're bitter, I'll be embittered;
if You're tender, I'll be tender as well.
My only joy is to be with You,
close to Your sweet lips and delicate chin, Beloved.
Everything depends on You. Who am I?
Just a mirror in Your hand.
Whatever You reveal, that's what I am.
I'm just a polished mirror.
If You're a graceful cypress,
I'm Your shadow;
and when you're a flower,
like your shadow, I'll pitch my tent nearby.
If I pluck a flower without You,
it becomes a thorn in my hand,
and if I'm a thorn,
with You I become roses and jasmine.
Moment by Moment my heart
sheds tears of blood; then with a sudden breath
I smash my glass
at the door of the wine server.
If ever I try to reach for some idol,
I get my face scratched, my shirt torn.
For somewhere beyond myself
grace radiates into my heart.
Somewhere a Candle illumines this whole world.
Who am I? Just the candlestick holder.
Divani Shamsi Tabrizi 1397
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