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Were I your treasure, you would squander me

Were I your treasure, you would squander me,
were I your mirror, you would dazzle me.
From the arrow of the eye to the scar of the heart,
just look, and what sights you will see.
Cupbearer, inspiration is either with you or with me,
you are making the sea the guest of bubbles.
With passionate looks, O eye,
you have made fire and water the same.
O pious man, that moonlike beauty is such a light
you cannot call it an idol, you may believe.
Words are less than the sound of an empty drum.
Galib! You lament in vain.
Respond to the music of the spheres, be a Mevlevi,
and you will meditate and you will turn.

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