|If self with knowledge strong becomes, Gabriel it can envious make:|
If fortified with passion great, like trump of Israfil can shake.
|The scourge of present science and thought, to me, no doubt, is fully known,|
Like Abraham, the Friend of God, in its flame I have been thrown.
|The caravan in quest of goal by charm of lodge is led astray,|
Though never can the ease of lodge be same as joy to be on way.
|If seeing eye you do not own, among my listeners do not pause,|
For subtle points about the self, like sword, deep yawning wounds can cause.
|Still to mind I can recall, in Europe what I learnt by heart:|
But can the veil of Reason match with joy that Presence can import.
|From caravan you are adrift, and night has donned a mantle black:|
For you my song that burns as flame, like a torch, can light the track.
|The tale of the Holy Shrine, if told, is simple, strange and red in hue:|
With Ismail the tale begins ends with Husain, the martyr true.
Translated by: Syed Akbar Ali Shah