O Nā‘ilī, is’t possible to change or alter Fate’s decree? Annulled can ever be the edict writ by pen of Destiny? My heart is gladdened with this thought, that ne’er an hour’s delay can be In whetting keen and sharp that axe of pain which rust can never see. Be all those glad by whom my aching heart is tortured and o’erthrown! Be those blest with their wish who say of me, “Be all his hopes cast prone!” _Nā‘ilī._ GAZEL He who union with the Lord gains, more delight desireth not! He who looks on charms of fair one, other sight desireth not. Pang of love is lover’s solace, eagerly he seeks therefor, Joys he in it, balm or salve for yonder blight, desireth not. Paradise he longs not after, nor doth aught beside regard; Bower and Garden, Mead, and Youth, and Hūrī bright, desireth not. From the hand of Power Unbounded draineth he the Wine of Life, Aye inebriate with Knowledge, learning’s light, desireth not. He who loves the Lord is monarch of an empire, such that he-- King of Inward Mysteries--Suleymān’s might, desireth not. Thou art Sultan of my heart, aye, Soul of my soul e’en art Thou; Thou art Soul enow, and Sidqī other plight desireth not. _Sidqī._ MUNĀJĀT Allah! Lord who liv’st for aye! O Sole! O King of Glory’s Ray! Monarch who ne’er shalt pass away! show Thou to us Thy bounties fair. In early morning shall our cry, our wail, mount to Thy Throne on high: “Error and sin our wont,” we sigh: show Thou to us Thy bounties fair. If cometh not from Thee Thy grace, evil shall all our works deface; O Lord of Being and of Space! show Thou to us Thy bounties fair. Creator of security! to Thy Belovèd greetings be! These fair words are in sincerity: show Thou to us Thy bounties fair Iqbālī sinnèd hath indeed, yet unto him Thy grace concede; Eternal, Answerer in need! show Thou to us Thy bounties fair. _Iqbālī._ MUKHAMMES Alas! nor dew nor smiling rose within this mead is mine; Within this market-place nor trade nor coin for need is mine; Nor more nor less; nor power nor strength for act or deed is mine; Nor might nor eminence; nor balm the cure to speed is mine. Oh, that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine! Being’s the bounty of the Lord; and Life, the gift Divine; The Breath, the present of his love; and Speech his Grace’s sign; The Body is the pile of God; the Soul, his Breath benign; The Powers thereof, his Glory’s trust; the Senses, his design. Oh, that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine! No work, no business of my own within this mart have I; All Being is of him alone--no life apart have I; No choice of entering this world, or hence of start have I; To cry, “I am! I am!” in truth, no power of heart have I. Oh, that I knew what here I am, that which indeed is mine!