Original content

English translation

Just as Galen the generous spoke Of his love for this world and his desire: "I am content that half a soul remain in me, That I might see the world from a mule's hindquarters." He sees a cat circling all around him, His bird-soul had despaired of flight. Or he has seen nothing beyond this world but non-existence; In that non-existence, unseen by him, a resurrection lies hidden. Like a fetus whom the worm draws outward, He flees back again toward the belly. Grace turns his face toward the Origin, Yet he makes his settled home upon the mother's back, Saying: "If I fall out from this city and this desire, How wonderful — I would behold this place with open eyes! Or if there were a door in that city and its curve, That I might gaze into the womb; Or if a needle's-eye of a path were given me, That from outside, the womb might be seen by me." That fetus too is heedless of a world; Like Galen, he is a stranger, uninitiated. He does not know that the moistures present within — That nourishment comes from the outer world, Just as the four elements in this world Bring a hundred sustaining gifts from the City of No-place (lā-makān). If water and grain are found within the cage, That has shone in from a garden and an open field. The souls of the prophets behold that garden From this cage, at the time of departure and release. They are therefore free of Galen and his world; Like the moon, they shine forth in the celestial spheres. And if what was attributed to Galen is a false report, Then my reply is not directed at Galen. This reply comes for the one who did speak thus, Whose heart lacked a light-filled companion. The bird of his soul became a mouse, seeking holes, When from the cats he heard: "Go back!" For that reason his soul found homeland and rest In this hole of the world, mouse-like. In this very hole he took up habitation; Knowledge fitting for a hole he acquired. Crafts and trades that would augment him — He chose those that serve inside this hole. Since he cut his heart off from going out, The way of release from the body was sealed. If the spider had the nature of the 'Anqā, Would it ever raise a tent from its own drool? The cat has sunk its claws into the cage; The name of those claws: pain, brain-fever, and colic. Death is the cat and illness its claw, It strikes at the bird and at its wings and feathers. From corner to corner it leaps toward medicine; Death is like a judge and illness the witness. For this witness has come as the judge's bailiff, Who is summoning you to the place of judgment. You beg him for a respite, trying to flee; If he accepts, well; if not, he says: "Arise!" Seeking respite through medicines and remedies Is patching tears upon the cloak of the body. In the end a wrathful morning comes — How long can the respite last? Have shame at last! Beg pardon from the King, O you full of envy, Before such a day arrives. And one who drives his mount through darkness Has utterly stripped the heart's light from it all at once. He flees from the witness — yet his very destination Is where that witness is calling him: toward the Divine Decree (qaḍā).