THE
FREE
MAN
The free man
is strong through repetition of Fear not
|
|
in the
battlefield we are hesitant while he is daring;
|
|
the free man
is clairvoyant through There is no deity,
|
|
he does not
fall into the snare of kings and lords;
|
|
like the
camel, the free man carries burdens
|
|
he carries
burdens but lives on thorny bushes.
|
|
He sets his
foot so firmly on the ground
|
|
that the pulse
of the pathway begins to throb with his ardour;
|
|
his soul
becomes more everlasting through death,
|
|
his call of
takbir is beyond words and sounds.
|
|
The dervish
gets tribute from kings,
|
|
who regards
the stones of the pathway as mere glass.
|
|
The warmth of
your nature is due to his red wine;
|
|
your stream is
watered by his river.
|
|
Kings in their
silken robes
|
|
are pallid
from fear of that naked faqir.
|
|
The essence of
faith for us is report, for him it is vision
|
|
he is within
the house while we are outside the door;
|
|
we are friends
of the Church, we sell mosques,
|
|
He quaffs cups
from the bands of Mustafa himself;
|
|
He is not
indebted to the wine-seller, nor has be the cup in his hand ;
|
|
we have empty
cups, while he is intoxicated since eternity.
|
|
The face of
the rose is red through his grace,
|
|
his smoke is
brighter than our fire.
|
|
He has in his
bosom a clarion call to nations,
|
|
their destiny
is inscribed on his forehead.
|
|
We turn in
worship sometimes to the Church and sometimes to the temple,
|
|
he does not
seek his sustenance from others’ hands;
|
|
we are all
slaves of the Franks, he is His slave,
|
|
he cannot be
contained in this world of colour and smell.
|
|
Our days and
nights are spent in anxiety for livelihood;
|
|
but what is
our end ? – pains of death.
|
|
He alone has
stability amidst this world of instability;
|
|
death for him
is one of the stations of life.
|
|
The people of
the heart feel frustrated in our company,
|
|
but the grace
of his company puts a heart even into dust.
|
|
Our life is
subject to doubts and misgivings,
|
|
he is all
activity and little talk;
|
|
we are beggars
roaming the streets and destitute,
|
|
his Faqr
is equipped with the sword of There is no deity;
|
|
We are mere
straw caught in a whirlwind,
|
|
his stroke on
the mountain brings out springs of water.
|
|
Get acquainted
with him and avoid us,
|
|
destroy your
present house and acquire a new one.
|
|
Complain not
of the revolving sky
|
|
revive
yourself through associating with that living person.
|
|
Association is
better than knowledge of books,
|
|
companionship
of free men is creative of men.
|
|
A free man is
a deep and shoreless sea,
|
|
get your water
from an ocean and not from a canal.
|
|
His breast is
in ferment like a boiling kettle,
|
|
for him a
solid mountain is like a heap of sand.
|
|
In peace, he
is the ornament of the assembly,
|
|
like spring
wind to the garden;
|
|
on the day of
battle, he, the knower of his destiny,
|
|
digs his own
grave with his own sword;
|
|
fly from us
like an arrow,
|
|
and catch hold
of his skirt with a frenzy.
|
|
The seed of
the heart does not develop out of water and clay,
|
|
without the
look of the people of the heart.
|
|
In this world
you do not count more than a piece of straw
|
|
unless you
attach yourself to the skirt of somebody.
|
0 comments:
Post a Comment