Yesterday I saw my Lord clear—
He was asleep in a garden
By the side of a spring.
A circle of Houris from Heaven
Stood round Him with bowed heads
Red tulips stretched away on one side,
Jasmin on the other.
The breeze tapped gently on His hair
Stirring up odours of musk and ambergris
From every curl.
Then, intoxicated by the perfume, the wind
Began stealing away the locks from His face,
As one might remove pieces of burnt wick
From the base of a shining lamp.
“Oh stay!”, I cried out in my dream,
“Be patient, do not breathe,
Do not stir till I awake from this vision.”
A poem from the Diwan-i Shams-i Tabriz