(39)

The magic old to life is brought By means of present science and thought: The path of life cannot be trod Without the aid of Moses’ Rod.

The mind is skilful in artful tasks, And can assume a hundred masks: Poor helpless Love that knows no guise Ain’t mullah, hermit or too wise.

Forbid the rest of lodge and bed To those who road of Love do tread: Like travellers they always roam, Though they seem to stay at home.

Concern for journey’s food and steed, Like burden great, retards your speed: Of this dead weight, if one be free, Like breeze can cross the mount and sea.

No wealth is owned by dervish free, At call of death he yields with glee: He has not either gold or land, Of him no one can tithe demand.