I tell my soul, “Thy case is clear
Naught else doth half so plain appear,
For every man is born to die
As did his sires in days gone by.”
Preserve thy soul from all that may
Disgrace it; passion cast away;
For passion is the fatal key
That opes the gate to misery.
Passion is easy at the start,
And sweet enjoyment doth impart;
Its end is bitter to the throat,
Its exits narrow and remote.
Life holds no pleasure known to man
But death is waiting in the van,
Though he a double measure won
Compared with Noah, Lamech’s son.
Seek, not a dwelling to secure
That doth so little time endure,
And giveth warning clear and strong
That it shall pass away ere long;
Which none may leave, except he be
Possessed thereof most solidly,
And many yield, yet in their mind
Wish ardently to stay behind.
Hopes are so easy to deny
Whose paps are withered and run dry,
So difficult to quit, whose breast
Abounds with joys yet unexpressed.
That servant of the Lord, who turns
Towards the thing for which he yearns
With passion of a lover true
And reason wisely to eschew,
Of all the creatures Allah made
Is likeliest, at the Last Parade,
To win to Paradise, to own
A private and eternal throne.
And he who fullest knows and best
The proper object of his quest,
Regards as trash the treasured things
Prized jealously by worldly kings;
And he who knows the Merciful
Would ne’er contend against His rule,
Though his inheritance at birth
Were all the kingdoms of the earth.
The best of ways in life for thee
Is godly fear and piety,
And whoso prudently prefers
That road is best of wayfarers.
But he who from that pathway strays
Will be in trouble all his days;
Life holds no pleasure for the soul
Unqualified in self-control.
Blessed are they, who truly seek
With joyous hearts and spirits meek
To win that heavenly reward,
The holy presence of the Lord.
For they have lost that bitter spite
Wherein ignoble souls delight,
To gain, full measure and increase,
The Sultan’s power, the beggar’s peace.
They live as they desire, until
They die the manner that they will,
To reach, in their eternal home,
Green pastures they may freely roam.
They disobey the body’s call,
Reject all pleasures physical,
To walk forever in the light
That rends the veil of error’s night.
But that the flesh requires its poor
Replenishment, I am most sure
They would deny what needs must give
And live the life that angels live.
Grant these, O Lord, the foremost place
And constant augment of Thy grace;
Where’er they dwell, upon them pour
Thy loving favour evermore.
And, O my soul, strive earnestly;
Allow no weariness in thee,
But gird thyself, that joy to gain
Which shall eternally remain.
When thou appraisest as is just
Thy labours in the cause of lust,
Thou knowest that it is not thus
Truth shall be realized in us
For God reveals His holy plan
Of Law before the sight of man,
More evident to watchful eyes
Than the stars’ network in the skies.
My soul, while yet thou art alive,
Betimes for thy salvation strive
Be resolute to serve thy Lord
With zeal fine-tempered as a sword.
Did men reflect, as they should do,
What noble purpose to pursue
They were created, none on earth
Would pass a single thought in mirth.
trans. A.J. Arberry