Lord, what a Beloved is mine! I have a sweet quarry; I possess
in my breast a hundred meadows from his reed.
When in anger the messenger comes and repairs towards me,
he says, -Whither are you fleeing? I have business with you.�
Last night I asked the new moon concerning my Moon. The
moon said, -I am running in his wake, my foot is in his dust.�
When the sun arose I said,� How yellow of face you are!� The
sun said, -Out of shame for his countenance I have a face of
gold.�
-Water, you are prostrate, you are running on your head and
face.� Water said, -Because of his incantation I move like a
snake.�
-Noble fire, why do you writhe so?� Fire said, -Because of
the lightning of his face my heart is restless.�
-Wind-messenger of the world, why are you light of heart?�
Wind said, -My heart would burn if the choice were mine.�
-Earth, what are you meditation, silent and watchful?� Earth
said, -Within me I have a garden and spring.�
Pass over these elements, God is our succorer; my head is
aching, in my hand I hold wine.
If you have barred sleep to us, the way of intoxication is open.
Since I have one to assist, he offers wine in both hands.
Be silent, that without this tongue the heart may speak; when
I hear the speech of the heart, I feel ashamed of this speech.