|The self of man is ocean vast, And knows no depth or bound:|
If you take it for a stream, How can your mind be sound?
|The magic of this whirling dome We can set at naught:|
Not of stone but of glass Its building has been wrought.
|In Holy Trance in self we drown, And up we rise again;|
But how a worthless man can show So much might and main?
|Your rank and state cannot be told By one who reads the stars:|
You are living dust, in sooth, Not ruled by Moon or Mars.
|The maids of Ed’n and Gabriel eke In this world can be found,|
But, alas! You lack as yet Glances bold and zeal profound.
|My craze has judged aright the bent Of times wherein I am born:|
Love be thanked for granting me The gown entire and untorn.
|Spite of Nature’s bounty great, Its guarding practice, mark!|
It grants the ruby reddish hue, But denies the heat of spark.
Translated by: Syed Akbar Ali Shah