Those hypocrites, all know so well, who lurk
In streets to beg their bread, and will not work,
Claim to be saints, like Shibli and Junaid,
No Shiblis are they, though well known in Karkh!
220. C. L. A. I. L. Reads bakahna namad, but the line will not scan with that reading. Line 4 is in metre 9. A saint called Ma'ruf i Karkhi, «the famed one of Karkh,» is mentioned in the Nafahat ul Uns. Karkh was a suburb of Bagdad.
When the great Founder moulded me of old,
He mixed much baser metal with my gold;
Better or fairer I can never be
Than I first issued from his heavenly mould.
The joyous souls who quaff potations deep,
And saints who in the mosques sad vigils keep,
Are lost at sea alike, and find no shore,
ONE only wakes, all others are asleep.
222. L. B. One, i.e., the Deity.
Not-being's water served to mix my clay,
And on my heart grief's fire doth ever prey,
And blown am I like wind about the world,
And last my crumbling earth is swept away.