When Mansur showed the face of his beloved, it was fitting that he reached the essence of his beloved.
I stole a melon from his robe, and my mind, head, and feet burned from its scent.
I broke a thorn from the top of his garden wall; what a thorn, and the desire in my heart is from its prick.
When this heart became like a lion one morning from a sheep, it deserves to be wounded by the separation from its shepherd.
Even though the sphere of the heavens seemed stubborn and fierce, it came under the control and reins of his love.
Although the mind is of high rank and very wise, it pawned its cloak and turban for the cup of love.
Many hearts sought refuge from his love, but he dragged them along and did not grant them refuge.
On a cold day, there was a fur coat in the stream; I told the naked one to take it out of the stream.
It was not a fur coat; it was a bear in the stream, and the water was carrying it away.
He entered out of greed until he reached the bear's fur, and that greed made him captive to the bear's grip.
I told him to let go of the fur and come back, but he stayed far and long in toil and struggle.
He said, "Go, for the fur has gripped me so that there is no hope of release from its tyrannical grasp."
It gives me a thousand plunges every hour; there is no escape from the grip of its passionate embrace.
Be silent; the tale is enough, the hint is sufficient. What need is there for the mind to prolong its scroll?