New Garden of Mystery
Introduction

The old ardour has disappeared from the life of the East; Its breath wavered and soul left its body

Like a picture without the chain of breath— And does not know what the taste of life is.

Its heart lost desire and craving, Its flute ceased to produce notes.

I am expressing my ideas in a different form, And writing in reply to the book of Mahmud.

Since the time of the Shaikh, No man has given the sparks of fire to our life.

We lay on the earth with shrouds around our bodies, And did not experience a single resurrection.

That wise man of Tabriz witnessed before his eyes Calamities that resulted from the invasion of Genghis.

I saw a revolution of another type: Appearance of a new sun.

I removed veil from the face of meaning, And gave sun in the hands of a mote.

Donʹt you think I am intoxicated without wine, And spin tales likes poets.

You will see no good from a low person, Who accuses me of being a poet.

I have nothing to do with the street of the beloved, And do not have a grief stricken heart nor a longing for the beloved;

Neither is my earth the dust of a street, Nor is within my clay a heart without self control.

My mission in life is in line with Gabriel the Truthful, I have neither a rival, nor a messenger, nor a porter.

Though a mendicant, I have the wherewithal of Moses: Kingly pomp under a beggarʹs garment.

If I am earth, desert cannot contain me; If water, river cannot encompass me.

The heart of a stone trembles at my glass, The ocean of my thought is without a shore.

Behind my curtain lie concealed several destinies, And several resurrections take birth at my hand.

For a moment I retired unto myself, I created an immortal world.

“I am not ashamed of such poetry, For in a hundred years an ’Attar might not appear.”

A battle of life and death is being waged in my soul, My eye is riveted on immortal life.

I saw your clay stranger to life, Hence I breathed into your body of my own soul.

I am wholly affected by the fire that I possess: Illumine the darkness of your night by my lamp.

Heart was sown into the soil of my body like a seed, A different destiny was written on my tablet:

To me the ideal of khudi is sweet as honey. What else can I do? My whole stock consists of this experience.

First I tasted the fruit of this experience myself, Then I decided to share it with the people of the East.

If Gabriel were to go through this book, He would cast aside the pure [Divine] Light as if it were dust;

He would bewail about his [low] station, And relate to God the condition of his heart:

“I no longer desire unveiled Epiphany, I desire nothing but hidden heart sore.

I am ready to forego eternal union, For now I realise what sweetness is in lamentation!

Give me the pride and submissiveness of man, Give unto my heart burning and consuming of man.”