Man has been thought superior to the swarm Of ruminating cows, of witless foals Who, crouching when the voice of thunder rolls, Are banqueted upon a thunderstorm. XXXIII But shall the fearing eyes of humankind Have peeped beyond the curtain and excel The boldness of a wondering gazelle Or of a bird imprisoned in the wind? XXXIV Ah! never may we hope to win release Before we that unripeness overthrow,-- So must the corn in agitation grow Before the sickle sings the songs of peace. XXXV Lo! there are many ways and many traps And many guides, and which of them is lord? For verily Mahomet has the sword, And he may have the truth--perhaps! _perhaps!_ XXXVI Now this religion happens to prevail Until by that religion overthrown,-- Because men dare not live with men alone, But always with another fairy-tale. XXXVII Religion is a charming girl, I say; But over this poor threshold will not pass, For I may not unveil her, and alas! The bridal gift I can't afford to pay. XXXVIII I have imagined that our welfare is Required to rise triumphant from defeat; And so the musk, which as the more you beat, Gives ever more delightful fragrancies. XXXIX For as a gate of sorrow-land unbars The region of unfaltering delight, So may you gather from the fields of night That harvest of diviner thought, the stars. XL Send into banishment whatever blows Across the waves of your tempestuous heart; Let every wish save Allah's wish depart, And you will have ineffable repose. XLI My faith it is that all the wanton pack Of living shall be--hush, poor heart!--withdrawn, As even to the camel comes a dawn Without a burden for his wounded back. XLII If there should be some truth in what they teach Of unrelenting Monkar and Nakyr, Before whose throne all buried men appear-- Then give me to the vultures, I beseech. XLIII Some yellow sand all hunger shall assuage And for my thirst no cloud have need to roll, And ah! the drooping bird which is my soul No longer shall be prisoned in the cage. XLIV Life is a flame that flickers in the wind, A bird that crouches in the fowler's net-- Nor may between her flutterings forget That hour the dreams of youth were unconfined. XLV There was a time when I was fain to guess The riddles of our life, when I would soar Against the cruel secrets of the door, So that I fell to deeper loneliness. XLVI One is behind the draperies of life, One who will tear these tanglements away-- No dark assassin, for the dawn of day Leaps out, as leapeth laughter, from the knife. XLVII If you will do some deed before you die, Remember not this caravan of death, But have belief that every little breath Will stay with you for an eternity. XLVIII Astrologers!--give ear to what they say! "The stars be words; they float on heaven's breath And faithfully reveal the days of death, And surely will reveal that longer day." XLIX