by Muhammad Shanazar
At how many spots, at the moment same,
A reverend man subservient to God,
Is present, is a puzzling thing of wonder.
On the remote plain of the distant recesses,
I beheld the sphere of dancing beauties,
Far above, in hundreds were the groups of stars,
All in formation, not a single one alone,
They glisten like scattered heaps of diamonds.
Told was I, those were the seats of devotees,
Around the masters' residencies.
Then I to the west turned my gaze,
Saw the rockless numerous mounds,
Dotted with low shrubs and cypresses green,
With pink-yellow mist descending upon,
Dim light was perceptible but with no source.
To the south-east I found a plain,
Vast and even, covered with fluffy grass,
And with wild commotion ran the men,
All shrouded white, hastened to one direction,
Followed one another in hurry burry haste,
Lest they should miss their fortune.
A man standing on the side right,
With snow-white locks, beard and brows,
Loose white robes flowed beneath the knees,
Told me the cause of hurrying excitement
That all ran and raced to receive greetingly,
A saint ‘Farid' who stepped from the world,
To freshen the devotees with a shower of faith.
A confusion for the mild meek man
That possessed my mind was removed;
The status he enjoyed in the world celestial,
Confounded the core of my wisdom.
While receding down, on another ground,
I did find the same reverend dervish,
Watching from a cave my farm of melons,
Fence by the dried hewed thorny branches.
And guarded he me well when the two damsels,
With sinful intents and wishes sable,
Invited with captivating delicacies,
He defended me against diabolic tricks,
As a shield does against the sharp blows.
Last updated June 26, 2011