There was once an unlettered man, thanks to whose wisdom we learned all about the mysteries of human destiny.

In origin we were nothing but a faint spark. He looked at us, and we became a world-illuminating sun.

The old man of the Harem wiped the imprint of Love from his heart, and we were humbled in the world in keeping with our sin’s degree.

It is the desert wind that suits our natural make-up. The morning breeze’s breath turned us into buds with constricted hearts.

O that tumultuous din of ours which once used to shoot up above the sky, reduced to treble and bass, became a mere lament.

How many quarries we once caught without nets and tied to our saddle straps! But now, with bows and arrows under armpits, we ourselves became our quarries’ prey.

‘Wherever you can find a way race your horse thither, for we have been outdone many times on this maneuvering-ground.’