Faqr

O slaves of material things, what is faqr?— a penetrating insight and a living heart.

Faqr is to sit in judgment over one’s own work, and to envelop oneself round the words there is no deity.

Faqr is conquering Khyber and living on barley meal, kings and nobles are tied to its saddle straps.

Faqr is ardour, ecstasy and submission to the will of God. It belongs really to Mustafa; we are only its trustees.

Faqr makes a nightly assault on the angelic hosts, and on the hidden forces of Nature;

it transforms you into a different man, and turns you from a piece of glass to a diamond.

Its whole equipment is derived from the Great Quran. a dervish cannot be contained in a blanket.

Although he speaks very little in the assembly of people, yet this little enlivens a hundred assemblies.

It gives to the wingless the ambition to fly, and the majesty of a falcon to a gnat.

When a fakir falls out with kings, the throne trembles before the mat’s majesty.

He sets the whole town in tumult through his madness, and frees the people from tyranny and oppression.

He does not settle but in places where a falcon runs away from before a dove.

His heart’s power flows from ecstasy and sobriety. His slogan before the king is no kings.

It is through his dust that our fire glows and burns, the flame trembles before the meanest particles of his dust.

No nation suffers defeat in the battle of life as long as it has a single dervish.

Our honour is due to his lordly contentment, our yearning is due to his carefree zeal.

Look at yourself in this mirror, that God may bestow on you clear authority.

The essence of faith lies in the graciousness of faqr; the might of faith flows from its highmindedness.

The King of the Faith said to the Muslims: “The whole earth is my mosque.”

Seek protection from the revolution of the nine heavens, that the Muslim’s mosque remains in the hands of others.

The person of pure faith tries hard to take back the mosque of his beloved Lord.

O you who talk of renunciation of this world, don’t talk of it, renunciation of this world lies in conquering it.

To be its rider is to free oneself from its bondage: it is to rise above the status of water und clay.

This world of water and clay is the Muslim’s quarry, would you advise a falcon to give up its prey?

I am unable to understand why a falcon should flee from the skies.

Alas! for a falcon that does not follow its nature, that recoils from inflicting pain on little birds,

that remains confined to its nest, afflicted and depressed, and does not wing the azure expanse of the skies.

The Quranic faqr is a critical examination of Existence: it is not mere rebeck playing, intoxication, dancing and singing.

What is a believer’s faqr? It is conquering of dimensions, the slave acquires attributes of the Lord through it.

The faqr of an unbeliever is flight to the wilderness, the faqr of a believer makes land and sea tremble

life for the former is solitude in caves and mountains, life for the latter flows from a glorious death;

the former is seeking God through renunciation of flesh, the latter is whetting one’s khudi on the stone of God;

the former is killing and burning out of khudi, the latter is to illumine the khudi like a lamp.

When faqr becomes naked under the Sun, the Sun and the Moon tremble through its fear.

Naked faqr is the warmth of Badr and Hunain, it is the sound of Husain’s takbir.

When faqr lost its zest for nakedness, the Muslims lost their might (jalal).

Alas! for us and for this ancient world! neither you nor I possess the sword of negation.

O young man, free your heart of the other than God, and barter away this ancient world.

How long can you live careless of the plight of your faith? O Muslim, this kind of life is as good as death.

The man of faith renews himself; he does not look at himself except in the light of God;

he measures himself by the standard set by Mustafa, and thus succeeds in creating a new world.

Woe to a nation that has fallen so low that it gives birth to kings and lords but not to a single dervish.

Do not ask me to tell you its story, for how can I describe what is indescribable?

Tears choke my throat; it is better if this commotion remains within the heart.