Dry Valley and The Rain

Come, come, for you will not find another friend like me.
Where indeed is a Beloved like me in all the world?
Come, come, and do not spend your life in wandering to and fro,
Since there is no market elsewhere for your money.
You are as a dry valley and I as the rain,
You are as a ruined city and I as the architect.
Except my service, which is joy's sunrise,
Man never has felt and never will feel an impression of joy.
You behold in dreams a thousand moving shapes;
When the dream is past you do not see a single one of the kind.
Close the eye that sees falsely and open the intellectual eye, 
Seek sweet syrup in the garden of Love,
For Nature is a seller of vinegar and a crusher of unripened grapes.
Come to the hospital of your own Creator;
No sick man can dispense with that Physician. 
The world without that King is like a headless body; 
Fold yourself, turban-wise, round such a head.
Unless you are rusty, do not let the mirror go from your hand;
The soul is your mirror, while the body is rust.
Where is the fortunate merchant, whose destiny Jupiter controls,
That I may eagerly trade with him and buy his wares?
Come, and think of me who gave you the faculty of thought,
Since from my mine you may purchase load of rubies.
Come, advance towards him who gave you a foot,
Look with all your eyes on him who gave you all eye.
Clap your hands for joy of him, by whose see the hand (foam) is produced,
For his joy admits no sorrow nor aflliction.
Listen without ears, speak to him without tongue,
Since the speech of the tongue is not without offence and injury.

Selected Poems from the Divani Shamsi Tabriz Edited and Translated by R. A. Nicholson