Sufis lack the fire, the passion that consumes,
But in miracles and in wonders their circles abound.
Be it the king’s palace, or the fakir’s sanctum,
Both have. usurped God’s power of providing sustenance.
On the Day of Judgement, God will be embarrassed
By the blank book of the Sufi, and the mindless mullah.
The world— wanderer does not yield to the world’s shackles,
Be it Arabia the blessed, The ‘Immortal City’ or China.
Inebriation of the night is a vaporous memory now,
But The Cup—bearer’s glances are an eternal flame.
Bear with my songs, venom — bared and harsh—
For it is venom that acts as an antidote sometimes.
A song that has the power of thunderbolts from heaven,.
Is worthier than all the wealth of kings and potentates.