PagineThe Beloved the Divine Consoler
by Rumi
Translated by R. A. Nicholson (1898) · From Dīvāni Shamsi Tabrīz
Thou who art my soul's comfort in the season of sorrow,
Thou who art my spirit's treasure in the bitterness of dearth!
That which the imagination has not conceived, that which the understanding has not seen,
Visited my soul from Thee; hence in worship I turn toward Thee.
By Thy grace I keep fixed on Eternity my amorous gaze,
Except, O King, the pomps that perish lead me astray.
The favour of that one, who brings glad tidings of Thee,
Even without Thy summons, is sweeter in mine ear than songs.
If a never-ceasing bounty should offer kingdoms,
If a hidden treasure should set before me all that is,
I would bend down my soul, I would lay my face in the dust,
I would say, "Of all these the love of such an One for me!"
This poem and this translation are in the public domain. Source text: Project Gutenberg.