O you who’ve gone on pilgrimage – where are you, where, oh where? Here, here is the Beloved! Oh come now, come, oh come! Your friend, he is your neighbor, he is next to your wall – You, erring in the desert – what air of love is this? If you’d see the Beloved’s form without any form – You are the house, the master, You are the Kaaba, you! . . . Where is a bunch of roses, if you would be this garden? Where, one soul’s pearly essence when you’re the Sea of God? That’s true – and yet your troubles may turn to treasures rich – How sad that you yourself veil the treasure that is yours!

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