The author’s memorial to him who is a mercy to all living beings

O thou, whose manifesting was the youth Of strenuous life, whose bright epiphany Told the interpretation of life’s dreams

Earth attained honour, having held thy court, And heaven glory, having kissed thy roof.

Thy face illumes the six-directioned world; Turk, Tajik, Arab—all thy servants are.

Whatever things have being, find in thee True exaltation, and thy poverty Is their abundant riches.

In this world Thou litst the lamp of life, as thou didst teach God’s servitors a godly mastery.

Without thee, whatsoever form indwelt This habitat of water and of clay Was put to shame in utter bankruptcy;

Till, when thy breath drew fire from the cold dust And Adam made of earth’s dead particles,

Each atom caught the skirts of sun and moon, Suddenly conscious of its inward strength.

Since first my gaze alighted on thy face Dearer than father and dear mother thou Art grown to me.

Thy love hath lit a flame Within my heart; ah, let it work at ease. For all my spirit is consumed in me,

And my sole chattel is a reed-like sigh, The lantern flickering in my ruined house.

It is not possible not to declare This hidden grief; it is not possible To veil the wine in the translucent cup.

But now the Muslim is estranged a new Unto the Prophet’s secret; now once more God’s sanctuary is an idols’ shrine;

Manat and Lat, Hubal and Uzza – each Carries an idol to his bosom clasped;

Our shaykh – no Brahman is so infidel, Seeking his Somnath stands within his head.

Arabia deserted, he is gone With all his being’s baggage, slumberous To drowse in Persia’s wine-vault.

Persia’s sleet Has set his limbs a-shiver; his thin wine Rune colder than his tears.

As timorous Of death as any infidel, his breast Is hollow, empty of a living heart.

I bore him lifeless from the doctors’ hands And brought him to the Prophet’s presence;

dead He was; I told him of the Fount of Life, I spoke with him upon a mystery O the Quran,

a tale of the Beloved Of Najd; I brought to him a perfume sweet Pressed from the roses of Arabia.

The Candle of my music lit the throng; I taught the people life’s enigma;

still He cried against me, “These are Europe’s spells He weaves to bind us with, the psaltery Of Europe that he strikes into our ears.”

O thou, that to Busiri gavest a Cloak And to my fingers yielded Salma’s lute,

Grant now to him, whose thoughts are so astray That he can no more recognize his own, Perception of the truth, and joy therein.

Be lusterless the mirror of my heart, Or be my words by aught but the Quran Informed,

O thou whose splendour is the dawn Of every age and time, whose vision sees All that is in men’s breasts,

rend now the veil Of my thought’s shame; sweep clean the avenue

Of my offending thorns; choke in my breast The narrow breath of life; thy people guard Against the mischief of my wickedness;

Nurse not to verdure my untimely seed, Grant me no portion of spring’s fecund showers,

Wither the vintage in my swelling grapes And scatter poison in my sparkling wine;

Disgrace me on the Day of Reckoning, Too abject to embrace thy holy feet.

But if I ever threaded on my chain The pearl of the Quran’s sweet mysteries, I to the Muslims I have spoken true

O thou whose bounty raises the obscure Unto significance, one prayer from thee Is ample guerdon for my word’s desert;

Plead thou to God my cause, and let my love Be locked in the embrace of godly deeds.

Thou hast accorded me a contrite soul, A part of holy learning;

establish me More firm in action, and my April shower Convert to pearls of great and glittering price.

Since first I cast the baggage of my soul In this world’s caravanserai, one more Desire I ever nourished,

like my heart Dwelling within my breast, mine intimate From life’s dawn;

since first I learned thy name From my sire’s lips, the flame of that desire Kindled and glowed in me.

My roll of days As heaven lengthens, in life’s lottery Marking me loser,

ever lustier grows The youth of my desire; this ancient wine Gains greater body with the passing years.

This yearning is gem beneath my dust, A single star illumining my night.

Awhile with rosy checks did I consort, Played love with twisted tresses,

tasted wines With lustrous brows, the lamp of godly peace Rudely extinguished;

lightnings danced about My harvest; my heart’s store of merchandise By highwaymen was plundered

Yet this draught Was spilled not from the goblet of my soul, This gold refined not scattered from my skirt.

My reason diabolical resolved To wear the Magian girdle; its impress Stamped o’er my spirit’s furrows.

Many years I was doubt’s prisoner, inseparable From my too arid brain.

I had not read One letter of true knowledge, and abode Still in philosophy’s conjecture-land;

My darkness was a stranger to the light Of God, my dusk knew not the glow of dawn.

And yet this yearning slumbered in my heart, Close-shrouded as the pearl within the shell;

But lastly from the goblet of mine eye It slowly trickled, and within my mind Created melodies.

And now my soul Is emptied of all memories but thee; I will be bold to speak of my desire, If thou wilt give me leave.

My life hath been Unfurnished in good works, and therefore I Might not aspire to worthiness of this,

Which to reveal I am too much ashamed; Yet thy compassion maketh me more bold.

The honey of thy mercy comforteth The whole round world; and this my yearning is, That I be granted in Hijaz to die!

A Muslim, stranger to all else but God – How long shall he the heathen girdle wear And keep the temple?

O the bitter shame If, when his earthly days are at an end, A pagan shrine receives his mortal bones.

If from thy door my scattered parts arise, Woe to this day, that morrow how sublime!

O happy city that thy dwelling was, Thrice-blessed earth wherein thou dost repose!

“My friend’s abode, the city of my king – True patriotism, the lover’s creed.”

Give to my star an even-wakeful eye, And in the shadow of the wall a place To slumber

that my spirit’s quicksilver Be stilled;

that I may say unto the skies, “Behold me, tranquil; ye who looked upon My first beginning, witness now my close.”