From me please give to Satan a message, How long be would like to fret in this cage. I like not this dust’s happiness brief, whose each dawn ends with the evening grief.

As long He made not this wide world anew, her conscience was cold, no uproars she knew. Where was a burning without my being then, you too was born thus from my fire then. (Basic thought is that no storm could rage without my soul’s role.)

The separation gave to zeal great spur, it gave to his passions a force and stir. Of thy own affairs though I have no ken, my heart made me conscious of my self then.

He drove thee out from the Heavens first, held thee accursed, kafir and rebel worst. From the first dawn I am writhing from prick, of thorn which you pricked with heart’s each tick.

My rights and the wrongs you already know, no harvest would grow in a waste land1so. You made not a bow in a pathos vain, and took all the sins in a hard bargain.

Let us play chess like a royal game, to melt the world whole with mutual flame. Use thy own skill, may be a grain of sand, for a paradise true on every land. (Nard: Chess or chausar as invented/played first by Bazur Jamuhr of Persia.)