My remembrance lacks the warmth
And zeal that mystics oft attain
My thought is not a scale at all
For deeds deserving need or pain.
I wish that jurist of the town,
Who knows the rules that Prophet taught
And is adept at Book revealed,
To my own point of view be brought
If in the music or its strains
Tile message of decease is hid
Such music of harp, reed and lute
In view of mine is quite forbid.