Conceive thy nose at fault; chide not the sweet woodbine.
O ‘Alī! Thou who mind and eye entirely art!
Relate a little of the knowledge in thy heart.25
Thy calmness is a sword that cleaves our minds in twain;
The fountain of thy wisdom makes us whole again.
Speak out! I know these mysteries are Jehovah’s own;
To kill without a sword’s a power of God well known.
He is Creator, without limbs and without tools;
The Giver of all blessings, copious as sea’s pools.
How many kinds of wine are savoured by our souls,