|The ancient fane in which we live Has heaps of thorns at every turn;|
Too hard to cross it safe and sound Without the aid of sighs that burn.
|The tale of quarry shot by Love Is simple, brief and not too long:|
The victim feels the joy of prick And then the rest of saddle thong.
|The sterling truth to Muslim taught, In feuds of different sects is lost;|
How can you catch this truth again, With bias if your mind be fraught?
|One is the outward form of faith, The other its spirit deep and true:|
He, who quaffs its spirits deep, Brings secrets hidden to his view.
|O pilgrim wise, who tread the hath, If passion strong for faith you lack,|
The bough of faith shall whither fast, Obscure and dim become the path.
|Courage and valour are the signs By which the state of Love is known:|
Not every zeal is pert and rude, Nor daring by ev’ry person shown.
|On the Day of Judgement too My frenzy will not let me rest:|
With Mighty God I shall contend Or rend to fragments my own vest.
Translated by: Syed Akbar Ali Shah