Out of Hijaz and the lonely plain the Guide of the Time is come, back from the far, far vale again the Caravan hastens home.

Lo, on the brow of the slaves I see the Sultan’s splendour bright, the dust of Ayaz shines radiantly with Mahmud’s torch alight.

In Ka‘bah and Temple long, long years the deep lament arose, till from Love’s banquet now appears one Man who the Secret knows.

The sighs that out of the bosom break of a people at earnest prayer a brave and new foundation make in Life’s mind everywhere.

O take the trembling lute from me, for my hand can play no more; in streams of blood my melody from the heart of the harp doth pour.