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III. 60. cal hamsâ wâ des' jahân

O my heart! let us go to that country where dwells the Beloved,
  the ravisher of my heart!
There Love is filling her pitcher from the well, yet she has no
  rope wherewith to draw water;
There the clouds do not cover the sky, yet the rain falls down in
  gentle showers:
O bodiless one! do not sit on your doorstep; go forth and bathe
  yourself in that rain!
There it is ever moonlight and never dark; and who speaks of one
  sun only? that land is illuminate with the rays of a million