The being that nullifies its self
becomes worthy of a prompt Union.
The wood that hasn't wiped out the self
cannot possibly become incense.
This incredible business takes place
on the Path of your being and non-being.
Every time your existence becomes nought
at once your nothingness becomes being.
O lover of self, hasn't the time come
for your Iblis to bow down in prayer?
You gambled your heart away in desire's path
so that your desire would bring you profit.
The heart becomes desire and you're amazed
by the celestial converting to earthly faiths.
Every breath you draw for the sake of desire
becomes like smoke in the eyes of the heart.
Unquestionably such a smoke would turn
your heart into a singed and sightless thing.
And so Attār has said all that he knows;
the rest depends on those who would listen.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem