Farid ud-Din Attar Poems

From each a mystic silence Love demands.
What do all seek so earnestly? ‘Tis Love.
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In the dead of night, a Sufi began to weep.
He said, "This world is like a closed coffin, in which
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Joy! Joy! I triumph! Now no more I know
Myself as simply me. I burn with love
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And as His Essence all the world pervades
Naught in Creation is, save this alone.
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Your face is neither infinite nor ephemeral.
You can never see your own face,
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'Why was Adam driven from the garden?'
The pupil asked his master. 'His heart was hardened
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We are busy with the luxury of things.
Their number and multiple faces bring
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From each, Love demands a mystic silence.
What do all seek so earnestly? Tis Love.
Love is the subject of their inmost thoughts,
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