A murid said to his pir: ‘What am I to do? I am troubled by the people, many of whom pay me visits. By their coming and going they encroach upon my precious time.’ He replied: ‘Lend something to every one of them who is poor and ask something from every one who is rich and they will come round thee no more.’
If a mendicant were the leader of the army of Islam,
The infidels would for fear of his importunity run as far as China.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem