|Over the tussle of heart and head|
Rumi has won and Rizi fled.
|Still bowl of Jamshid is alive,|
Without guile kingship cannot thrive.
|Both you and I aren’t Muslims true,|
Though we say the prayers due.
|I know the end of wrangle well|
Where mullahs at each other yell.
|Turkish and Arabic both are sweet,|
For talk of Love all tongues are meet.
|The breed of Azar idols make,|
But Friends of God these idols break.
|You are alive and live for aye|
The rest is all a play with clay.
Translated by: Syed Akbar Ali Shah