That nightingale of poetry, Ghani, who sang in Kashmir’s paradisal land;

Used, while at home, to shut up all the doors, but leave them open while away from home.

Somebody questioned him concerning this. ‘O charming bard’, he said, ‘Why do you do this strange thing, which nobody understands the meaning of?’

‘Ghani, who had no wealth except his gift of poetry, replied:

‘What people see me doing is quite right. There is nothing of any value in my house except myself.

When I am in, the house is to be guarded like a treasure-house.

When I am out, it is an empty place, which nobody would care to walk into.’