It once happened that on a journey to the Hejaz a company of young and pious men, whose sentiments harmonized with mine, were my fellow-travellers. They occasionally sung and recited spiritual verses but we had with us also an a’bid, who entertained a bad opinion of the behaviour of the dervishes and was ignorant of their sufferings. When we reached the palm-grove of the Beni Hallal, a black boy of the encampment, falling into a state of excitement, broke out in a strain which brought down the birds from the sky. I saw, however, the camel of the a’bid, which began to prance, throwing him and running into the desert.
Knowest thou what that matutinal bulbul said to me? What man art thou to be ignorant of love? The Arabic verses threw a camel into ecstasy and joy. If thou hast no taste thou art an ill-natured brute.
When a camel’s head is turned by the frenzy of joy And a man does not feel it, he must be an ass.
When the winds blow over the plain The branches of the ban-tree bend, not hard rocks.
Whatever thou beholdest chants his praises. He knows this who has the true perception. Not only the bulbul on the rosebush sings praises But every bramble is a tongue, extolling him.
Zameen