(48)

A monarch’s pomp and mighty arms Can never give such glee, As can be felt in presence of A qalandar bold and free.

The world is like an idol house, God’s Friend, a person free: No doubt, this subtle point is hid In words, No god but He.

The world that you with effort make To you belongs alone: The world of brick and stone you see, You cannot call your own.

The clay-made man is still among The vagrants on the road, Though man beyond the moon and stars Can find his true abode.

This news I have received from those Who rule the sea and land, That Europe lies on course of flood ’Gainst which no one can stand.

A world there is quite fresh and new In sighs at morn I have: Your portion seek within its tracts, Thus goal and aim achieve.

Count my gourd an immense gain, For pure and sparkling wine No more the seats of learning store Nor sells the Sacred Shrine.