بخش 18 - خاتمه

I talk not of bearer nor of bowl hence, This love theme, I say in a frank parlance.

From Holies of Ummah what e’er I hold, In their own frank style to thee I have told.

Back to ego turn, and back to heart look, Make the self’s own place in thy bosom nook.

Treat this tillage with moist of blood and tear. Eat the harvest thus, I throw my seeds here.

For heart and eyes course, the ‘Harem’ is the aim, Its round is not the round of door’an roof’s frame.

In us and God’s House there hides a hint so, Which Gabe, the Trustee may not even know.