(9)

Through Love the song of Life Begets its rhythmic flow: From Love the shapes of clay Derive an endless glow.

Love makes its way to all The pores in human flesh, Like dewy wind of morn That makes the rose twig fresh.

If man denies his God, On kings he has to fawn: By trust in God, the kings To his door are drawn.

Free heart lends kingly state, To belly death is due: Decide which of the two Is better in your view.

O Muslim, search your heart, Of mullah don’t ask it, “The sacred House of God, The righteous why have quit?”