The present age destroys the faith and creed,
Like pagans has a bent of mind indeed.
The threshold of a saint is higher far
Than court of worldly king or mighty Czar.
It is a period full of magic art,
With spell so strong all play their part.
The fount and source of life is parched and dry,
No more the wine of gnosis can supply.
The shrines are empty of such saintly folk,
Whose glance good manners taught with single stroke.
The house, your presence illumes like a lamp,
Has mystic trend in veins and bears its stamp.
If essence of God's Oneness be in heart,
The lore of Franks can cause no harm or smart.
On rose twigs chirp, for long there do not rest,
In selfhood you must seek your home and nest.
A man is ocean that is vast and free,
Its every drop is like the boundless sea.
If peasant is not charmed with life of ease,
A seed can yield a thousand‑fold increase.
I don't sit like sluggards and indulge in play,
It is time for your craft and skill's display.
If heart with love of God is not replete,
The life of man remains quite incomplete.
If quarry is wise acute and bold,
It can not be trapped by hunters old.
The Fount of Life in wordly life is found,
Provided you have a thirst quite true and sound.
Your envy for Faith is mystic course indeed,
For growth of faqr a lot of zeal you need.
My darling son, I see no chance at all
That hawk will like to turn a pheasant's thrall.
There is no dearth of goods, called verse or rhyme,
There are hundreds of poets much sublime.
My reach and might in world is this alone
That 'neath the roof I cry, complain and groan.
In speaking truth I am much bold and frank,
In eyes of men I hold a lofty rank.
A son can not acquire his sire's renown,
Unless His grace by Mighty Lord is shown.
Nizami, the poet great of Persian tongue,
Gave counsel wise to son who still was young:
“On occasions where your greatness must prevail
Your lineage there won't be of much avail."
The days and nights a Muslim's toils enhance:
Both creed and rule are like a game of chance.
Men drunk with zeal for deeds nowhere are found,
The rest are fond of talk with idle sound.
If you have courage great and ample force,
Seek such faqr which in Hijaz has its source.
This brand of faqr such virtues great can grant
That make man, like God, free from every want.
His hawk‑like status can spread general death
Of sparrows, pigeons all in single breath.
The glance of mind by its means burns and blazes
Without collyrium begged from Avicenna and Rhazes.
If temper of Ayaz is free from every slavish trend,
Like Mahmud can win grandeur which hasn't end.
Your world's Sarafil has neither taste nor zeal,
He can't blow trumpet nor can skill reveal.
Its glance a world‑wide tumult can inspire,
In obscure mode sets right the things entire.
A warrior who can this Jealous Faqr attain,
Without sword and lance great conquests he can gain.
It sets the faithful free from need and want,
Beg God that such faqr to you He may grant.
Translated by: Syed Akbar Ali Shah