|In my craze that knows no bound, of the Mosque I made the round:|
Thank God that outer vest of Shrine still was left untorn and fine.
|I wish good luck and pleasure great, to all, of faith who always prate|
But all the jurists of the town with one accord upon me frown.
|Men, like Plato, still roam about betwixt belief and utter doubt|
Men endowed with reason, aye, ever on the heights do stay.
|Unless the Book's each verse and part be revealed unto your heart,|
Interpreters, though much profound, its subtle points cannot expound
|The joy that Frankish wine does give lasts not for long nor always live,|
Though scum at bottom of its bowl is always pure and never foul.
Translated by: Syed Akbar Ali Shah