XXXII
Man has been thought superior to the swarm
Of ruminating cows, of witless foals
Who, crouching when the voice of thunder
rolls,
Are banqueted upon a thunderstorm.
XXXIII
But shall the fearing eyes of humankind
Have peeped beyond the curtain and excel
The boldness of a wondering gazelle
Or of a bird imprisoned in the wind?
XXXIV
Ah! never may we hope to win release
Before we that unripeness overthrow,—
So must the corn in agitation grow
Before the sickle sings the songs of peace.
XXXV
Lo! there are many ways and many traps
And many guides, and which of them is
lord?
For verily Mahomet has the sword,
And he may have the truth—perhaps! perhaps!
XXXVI
Now this religion happens to prevail
Until by that religion overthrown,—
Because men dare not live with men alone,
But always with another fairy-tale.
XXXVII
Religion is a charming girl, I say;
But over this poor threshold will not
pass,
For I may not unveil her, and alas!
The bridal gift I can’t afford to pay.
XXXVIII
I have imagined that our welfare is
Required to rise triumphant from defeat;
And so the musk, which as the more you
beat,
Gives ever more delightful fragrancies.
XXXIX
For as a gate of sorrow-land unbars
The region of unfaltering delight,
So may you gather from the fields of night
That harvest of diviner thought, the stars.
XL
Send into banishment whatever blows
Across the waves of your tempestuous heart;
Let every wish save Allah’s wish
depart,
And you will have ineffable repose.
XLI
My faith it is that all the wanton pack
Of living shall be—hush, poor
heart!—withdrawn,
As even to the camel comes a dawn
Without a burden for his wounded back.
XLII
If there should be some truth in what they teach
Of unrelenting Monkar and Nakyr,
Before whose throne all buried men appear—
Then give me to the vultures, I beseech.
XLIII
Some yellow sand all hunger shall assuage
And for my thirst no cloud have need to
roll,
And ah! the drooping bird which is my
soul
No longer shall be prisoned in the cage.