که منم یار خضر صد گنج و جود ** می‌فشاندم لیک روزیتان نبود 3675
“I am the friend of Khadir: I would have scattered a hundred treasures of munificence (over you), but ’twas not your appointed portion.”
تمثیل فکر هر روزینه کی اندر دل آید به مهمان نو کی از اول روز در خانه فرود آید و فضیلت مهمان‌نوازی و ناز مهمان کشیدن و تحکم و بدخویی کند به خداوند خانه
Comparing the daily thoughts that come into the heart with the new guests who from the beginning of the day alight in the house and behave with arrogance and ill-temper towards the master of the house; and concerning the merit of treating the guest with kindness and of suffering his haughty airs patiently.
هر دمی فکری چو مهمان عزیز ** آید اندر سینه‌ات هر روز نیز
Every day, too, at every moment a (different) thought comes, like an honoured guest, into thy bosom.
فکر را ای جان به جای شخص دان ** زانک شخص از فکر دارد قدر و جان
O (dear) soul, regard thought as a person, since (every) person derives his worth from thought and spirit.
فکر غم گر راه شادی می‌زند ** کارسازیهای شادی می‌کند
If the thought of sorrow is waylaying (spoiling) joy, (yet) it is making preparations for joy.
خانه می‌روبد به تندی او ز غیر ** تا در آید شادی نو ز اصل خیر
It violently sweeps thy house clear of (all) else, in order that new joy from the source of good may enter in.
می‌فشاند برگ زرد از شاخ دل ** تا بروید برگ سبز متصل 3680
It scatters the yellow leaves from the bough of the heart, in order that incessant green leaves may grow.
می‌کند بیخ سرور کهنه را ** تا خرامد ذوق نو از ما ورا
It uproots the old joy, in order that new delight may march in from the Beyond.
غم کند بیخ کژ پوسیده را ** تا نماید بیخ رو پوشیده را
Sorrow pulls up the crooked rotten (root), in order that it may disclose the root that is veiled from sight.
غم ز دل هر چه بریزد یا برد ** در عوض حقا که بهتر آورد
Whatsoever (things) sorrow may cause to be shed from the heart or may take away (from it), assuredly it will bring better in exchange,
خاصه آن را که یقینش باشد این ** که بود غم بنده‌ی اهل یقین
Especially for him who knows with certainty (intuitively) that sorrow is the servant of the possessors of (intuitive) certainty.