I have a letter from the air addressed to you,
And in it I dare to fix the regularities and parades,
To you is the regular practice,
From my heart the intellect is won
Like the shining bull and shining star.
I cause him to be swallowed and uprooted,
For he is a tree of brotherhood and learning,
When the tree grows I shall grow,
Relaxing me, for I am Naveed of questions,
The same interrogation will happen after this life.
I wrote the causes of this world in my journal
And was lost in thought, five times the thoughts
Appeared, and the road never diverted
The senses, for it was pure to travel in gravel
And the graves could be shadows of great work.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem