Set Fire To The Wood

This is the Lord of heaven, who resembles Venus and the moon,
This is the house of Love, which has no bound or end.
Like a mirror, the soul has received thy image in its heart;
The tip of thy curl has sunk into the heart like a comb.
For as much as the women cut their hands in Joseph's presence,
Come to me, O soul, for the Beloved is in the midst. 
All the house are drunken-none has knowledge 
Of each who enters that he is so-and-so or so-and-so.
Do not sit intoxicated at the door; come into the house quickly.
He is in the dark whose place is the threshold.
Those drunk with God, tho' they be thousands, are yet one;
Those drunk with lust-tho' it be a single one, he is a double.
Go into the wood of lions and reck not of the wound, 
For there is no wound; all is mercy and love,
But thy imagination is like a bar behind the door. 
Set fire to the wood, and keep silence,
O heart; Draw back thy tongue, for thy tongue is harmful.

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