Chapter III: Story on the Occupation of Lovers

From an old man of learning, I thus bear in mind,That a zealot his head to the desert inclined.At his absence, his father could eat not nor rest;The boy they rebuked; thus, himself he expressed:"Inasmuch as the Friend deigned to call me His own,From ev'ry one else my affection has flown.By Truth! until God showed His beauty to me,All else I had seen was but fancy set free."He's not lost who averted his face from mankind;But his "Lost One," again, he has managed to find.Those enraptured of God, who beneath the sky dwell,May be said to be angels and wild beasts, as well.In remembrance of God, like the angels, they're high;Night and day from mankind, like the wild beasts, they fly.Strong in arm, though their hands are, from helplessness, shrunk;Philosophers frantic; sagacious men drunk.Now patching their clothes in a corner, content;Then engaged in th' assembly, on burning them bent.No regard for themselves and of others no thought ;In their nook of God's "Oneness," for others, no spot.Bewildered in reason; intelligence lost ;To the words of admonishers deaf as a post !There's no chance of a duck, in the sea, being drowned ;In the cold salamander what dread of fire's found?They are full of ambition, no wealth do they own;They fearlessly travel the desert alone.They expect not mankind to be pleased with their ways ;They're approved of by God, and that amply repays.They are dear ones, concealed from the people's dim eyes ;No Brahminical thread 'neath their tattered clothes lies.Full of fruit and of shade and, if like the grape too,They're not wicked, like us, and dyed over with blue.Like shell-fish, they're silent within their own home,And not like the ocean when lashed into foam.Skin and bone put together may not be mankind;In each figure a soul, knowing God, you can't find.The king does not buy ev'ry slave in the mart;Each old, tattered robe does not hide a live heart !Were a pearl to be formed from each globule of hail,Thick as shells they would be in the market, for sale.They do not, like rope-dancers, wooden clogs wear—Wooden shoes render walking an uphill affair.Companions of God's private mansion on high ;By a draught, till the last trump, oblivious they lie.For the sword, they won't part from the object they own;For chasteness and love, are the crystal and stone.