Quatrains-1-4

(1)

What fruit will the bough of my hope bear– What do I know of your destiny?

The rose-bud needs to open today– Why wait for tomorrow’s morning breeze?

(2)

Set him free of this world’s affairs To be free of casting for everyone snares.

In old age, Satan’s thoughts too are old Where from should he bring new sins’ flares?

(3)

Upset this world of morn and eve, Of these wetlands, of those dry leave.

May your Godhead remain free of blemish all In my insipid prostrations do not believe!

(4)

My poor estate makes proud men covetous, Poverty such as mine ennobles us.

Beware those other rags and begging-bowls That make the Muslim pusillanimous!