Where are you

Where is the one who showed me
The mountain of gold that fell to the ground,
Where is the one who drew the water,
Yet gave me only mirages to be found?
Where is the one who feasted well
Without wiping his mouth at all?
He ordered me to take my seat,
And called me a scoundrel small.
The one who reached the mountain peaks,
From the heights, he gazed with pride,
What happened down in the plains,
And what the argan tree had to abide.
What use was the torch he raised?
What good is the word he controlled?
See how the millstone turned around,
Yet no grain from it was rolled.
Then the youyou reached my ear,
As Bibi thought of the moon above,
That it was reborn in the night,
Yet the youyou turned to madness, not love