Original content

English translation

If a saint drinks poison, it becomes a sweet draught; but if a seeker drinks it, he becomes blackened in bewilderment. “My Lord, grant me” came from Solomon, saying: “Do not put this kingdom into anyone else’s hand. Do not show this kindness and generosity to anyone other than me.” This looks like envy, but it was not. Read the subtle point of “it is not fitting” with your soul; do not suppose the secret of “after me” came from his stinginess. Rather, in kingship he saw a hundred dangers; hair by hair, the kingdom of the world was full of fear for the head: fear for the head, fear for the head, and fear for religion. We have no trial like this. So one needs a Solomon-like aspiration, one that passes beyond these hundreds of thousands of colors and scents. Even with the strength he had, the wave of that kingship held back his breath. When the dust of this grief settled on him, he felt mercy for all the kings of the world. He became an intercessor and said: “This kingdom and banner, give it with the perfection You gave to me. Whoever You give it to, and on whom You bestow that generosity, he is Solomon, and that person is also I. He is not after me; he is with me. And what is ‘with me’? It is I, without claimant.” Explaining this is necessary to say, but I return to the story of the man and woman.