“If the eye of the heart is open, in each atom there will be one hundred secrets.”

“A Drunkard accuses a Drunkard...A sot became extremely drunk - his legsAnd head sank listless, weighed by wine's thick dregs.A sober neighbour put him in a sackAnd took him homewards hoisted on his back.Another drunk went stumbling by the first,Who woke and stuck his head outside and cursed."Hey, you, you lousy dipsomaniac,"He yelled as he was borne off in the sack,"If you'd had fewer drinks, just two or three,You would be walking now as well as me.”

“A thousand for his love expired each day,And those who saw his face, in blank dismayWould rave and grieve and mourn their lives away-To die for love of that bewitching sightWas worth a hundred lives without his light.None could survive his absence patiently,None could endure this king's proximity-How strange it was that man could neither brookThe presence nor the absence of his look!”

“A man whose eyes love opens risks his soul -His dancing breaks beyond the mind's control.”

“When they had understood the hoopoe's words,A clamour of complaint rose from the birds:'Although we recognize you as our guide,You must accept - it cannot be denied -We are a wretched, flimsy crew at best,And lack the bare essentials for this quest.Our feathers and our wings, our bodies' strengthAre quite unequal to the journey's length;For one of us to reach the Simorgh's throneWould be miraculous, a thing unknown.[...] He seems like Solomon, and we like ants;How can mere ants climb from their darkened pitUp to the Simorgh's realm? And is it fitThat beggars try the glory of a king?How ever could they manage such a thing?'The hoopoe answered them: 'How can love thrivein hearts impoverished and half alive?"Beggars," you say - such niggling povertyWill not encourage truth or charity.A man whose eyes love opens risks his soul -His dancing breaks beyond the mind's control.[...] Your heart is not a mirror bright and clearIf there the Simorgh's form does not appear;No one can bear His beauty face to face,And for this reason, of His perfect grace,He makes a mirror in our hearts - look thereTo see Him, search your hearts with anxious care.”

“If you will but aspireYou will attain to all that you desire.Before an atom of such need the SunSeems dim and mirky by comparison.It is life's strength, the wings by which we flyBeyond the further reaches of the sky.”

“A KING WHO PLACED MIRRORS IN HIS PALACEThere lived a king; his comeliness was suchThe world could not acclaim his charm too much.The world's wealth seemed a portion of his grace;It was a miracle to view his face.If he had rivals,then I know of none;The earth resounded with this paragon.When riding through his streets he did not failTo hide his features with a scarlet veil.Whoever scanned the veil would lose his head;Whoever spoke his name was left for dead,The tongue ripped from his mouth; whoever thrilledWith passion for this king was quickly killed.A thousand for his love expired each day,And those who saw his face, in blank dismayWould rave and grieve and mourn their lives away-To die for love of that bewitching sightWas worth a hundred lives without his light.None could survive his absence patiently,None could endure this king's proximity-How strange it was that man could neither brookThe presence nor the absence of his look!Since few could bear his sight, they were contentTo hear the king in sober argument,But while they listened they endure such painAs made them long to see their king again.The king commanded mirrors to be placedAbout the palace walls, and when he facedTheir polished surfaces his image shoneWith mitigated splendour to the throne.If you would glimpse the beauty we revereLook in your heart-its image will appear.Make of your heart a looking-glass and seeReflected there the Friend's nobility;Your sovereign's glory will illuminateThe palace where he reigns in proper state.Search for this king within your heart; His soulReveals itself in atoms of the Whole.The multitude of forms that masqueradeThroughout the world spring from the Simorgh's shade.If you catch sight of His magnificenceIt is His shadow that beguiles your glance;The Simorgh's shadow and Himself are one;Seek them together, twinned in unison.But you are lost in vague uncertainty...Pass beyond shadows to Reality.How can you reach the Simorgh's splendid court?First find its gateway, and the sun, long-sought,Erupts through clouds; when victory is won,Your sight knows nothing but the blinding sun.”