  Showing that the Self is weakened by asking. Thy need hath caused thee to become a fox in disposition. Thy maladies are the result of indigence: This disease is the source of thy pain. It is robbing thine high thoughts of their dignity And putting out the light of thy noble imagination. 440 Quaff rosy wine from the jar of existence! Snatch thy money from the purse of Time! Like Omar, come down from thy camel! Beware of incurring obligations, beware! How long wilt thou sue for office 445 And ride like children on a woman’s back? A nature that fixes its gaze on the sky Becomes debased by receiving benefits. By asking, poverty is made more abject; By begging, the beggar is made poorer. 450 Asking disintegrates the Self And deprives of illumination the Sinai-bush of the Self. Do not scatter thy handful of dust; Like the moon, scrape food from thine own side! Albeit thou art poor and wretched 455 And overwhelmed by affliction, Seek not thy daily bread from the bounty of another, Seek not waves of water from the fountain of the sun, Lest thou be put to shame before the Prophet On the Day when every soul shall be stricken with fear. 460 The moon gets sustenance from the table of the sun And bears the brand of his bounty on her heart. Pray God for courage! Wrestle with Fortune! Do not sully the honour of the pure religion! He who swept the rubbish of idols out of the Ka’ba 465 Said that God loves a man that earns his living. Woe to him that accepts bounty from another’s table And lets his neck be bent with benefits! He hath consumed himself with the lightning of the favours bestowed on him, He hath sold his honour for a paltry coin. 470 Happy the man who thirsting in the sun Does not crave of Khizr a cup of water! His brow is not moist with the shame of beggary; He is a man still, not a piece of clay. That noble youth walks under heaven 475 With his head erect like the pine. Are his hands empty? The more is he master of himself. Do his fortunes languish? The more alert is he. The beggar’s wallet is like a boat tossing in waves of fire; Sweet is a little dew gathered by one’s own hand. 480 Be a man of honour, and like the bubble Keep thy cup inverted even in the midst of the sea! FOOTNOTES: |
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