ADDRESS TO PEOPLE OF THE FRONTIER
 

O you who are hidden to your own self, discover yourself.
In the Islamic Faith concealment is tabu.
Known you the secret of the Prophet’s Deem?
Seeing one’s self explicitly is being right royal.
What is the Deen? Finding out your self’s secrets.
Life is sheer death without beholding your self.
That Muslim who keens his self
selects himself only out of the whole world.
He knows the very nature of the universe.
He is the sword yclept: “There is naught Existent except God.”
Both space and hyper-space are full of this tumult;
the nine skies are straggling in its expanse.
So long as his heart is a secret out of the secrets of God,
alack if he sees not his own self!
The votary of God is heir to prophets,
he is not contained in the world of objects.
In order that he should create another world,
he shatters this old, weather beaten one.
A live person is free from fealty to others than God,
There is a lamp lighted in him by the ego.
His foot is firm in the srife between good and bad;
his remembrance of God is the scimitar and his contemplation the shield.
His morning is by a call which arises from the depth of his soul, not by the light of the orient sun.
His nature is sans directions in the midst of dimensions;
his is the sanctuary round which the world revolves;
A particle from his path is the sun;
the Book bears testimony to his lofty status.
His nature finds exposition by the millat
making his eye bright therewith.
His eye is lustrous by this corporate body.
Be lost a bit in the Qur’an and Traditions,
O ignorant one! Then plunge into your own covert self.
Lost you are in the world bewildered and confounded,
Losing your unity you are blown into bits.
The manacle of “other-than-God” binds your feet.
Alas, this mark of bondage on your forehead!
Leader of the people, be afraid of this inner mischief;
be afraid of the deterioration, of the Afghan spirit.
Let me kindle you with the fire of godly folk
teaching you by the precept of the master saint of Rumi.
“Seek livelihood from the Lord, not this and that,
seek stimulation from Him, not from hemlock and wine.
Seek not mud, eat it not and seek it not.
for the mire is foul and always pale in hue.
Seek the heart so that you always remain young,
your face crimson with refulgence divine.
Be a man and move about the earth like a steed.
not like a dead corpse carried on the shoulders.”
Complain little of the cerulean sky.
revolve not round anything except your sun.
Become aware of the lofty station of spiritual ardour.
If a mere mote, become the hunter of the sun and moon.
Take measure of the present world
and raise aloft your voice therein.
The coherence of this world is by unity alone,
life herein means unity in this subterranean world.
Leave off these scents and hues old.
purge yourself of antiquated aspirations.
All this stuff is not worth even a barley grain.
Devise anew live aspiration, for life has its base therein.
Develop your identity by this aspiratin of yours.
The eye, ears and senses are all sharpened by it.
A pinch of dust gives rise to tulips thereby.
He who does not sow the seed of aspiration in his heart
becomes downtrodden by others like rocks and stones.
Aspiration is the wherewithal of kings and lords;
it is the discerning cup of a mendicant.
It is this turns water and clay, the physical self; into a human being.
It is that which acquaints us with ourselves.
When a spark leaps up from our body’s dust,
it grants a mote the vast expanse of the sky.
The son of Azar, Abraham, constructed the Kaaba,
thereby converting the earth to alchemy with just a glance.
You too build a self in your corporeal frame
and convert a pinch of dust of your self into alchemy.