Poem #293

At dawn, when from Creation's hall, the privacy of night

The Candle of the East casts forth its rays of golden light,

The Wheel draws from the horizon's pocket a mirror clear and bright

And shows the world in thousand forms to our bewildered sight.

In the corners of the pleasure-house where Jamshid's spirit dwells

Venus plays her organ sweet, and the mystic music swells.

The harp cries out in wild uproar: 'Where has the censor gone?'

The cup laughs loud and asks the wind: 'Where is the forbidding one?'

Observe the turning of the world, and take the cup of glee

For this, in every state of life, is the best philosophy.

The tresses of the world's fair face are snares and deceit's thread

The wise seek not to quarrel here, where danger lies ahead.

Seek the King's life if you desire the world's true benefit

For he is generous and kind, and grace flows out of it.

Manifestation of God's grace, hope's light in every eye

Shah Shuja, soul of all the world, where knowledge and action lie.