Visiting Ghazna and offering reverence to the Sage Sanai

By the favour of the martyred King, my mornings and evenings were as pleasant as those of Eid.

Bard of the East, the Indian fakir, was guest unto that monarch with saturn as throne.

Ever since I moved from the royal city, travelling became lighter for me than sojourn.

I opened my breast to the breeze by which tulips had sprung up the past year in the mountains.

Alas! Ghazni, the home of learning and art, the hunting ground of lion hunters of yore,

a beautiful bride of Mahmud’s realm, of whose henna dyed adorners one was the Sage of Tus.

In it resting in eternal sleep the Ghaznavid sage too by whose voice the hearts of men grew strong.

That seer of the unseen, man of high station by whose iteration Rumi’s passion rose to a climax.

I exulted in the Present, he exulted in the Hidden, both having their wheewithal from zest for the sight of sights.

He raised the veil from the face of Faith and my thought indicated the destiny of a believer.

Both learnt their lesson from Quranic Wisdom. He speaks of God while I speak of godly folk.

I felt afire in the tomb’s atmosphere to such an extent that I became apprized of a cry.

I said to him, “O you seer of the secrets of life, both this world and the other luminous to you,

our age is infatuated by material things symbolised by water and clay, which raises problems without end for those godly.

Leave aside what the believers suffered at the hands of Western nations, there has sprung up so much mischief in the Harem even.

Since the believers sight was not disciplined by the heart, the glamour of the West bewitched his eyes.

O you seer of the hidden, leader of the knowing once, by whose beneficence the rawness of the seers became mature,

whatever is there hidden behind the veil, let me know; may be the wave once past should come back in the stream.