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The memory comes to me of the times gone by,
The delights of the Garden where all chirped together;
Where is now that freedom of my own nest,
That coming in and going out at pleasure
The lion which had sprung from the desert sands of Arabia,
and had undermined the might of the Roman Empire.
Will wake up again this is what I have heard from the Angels
The Heart of our poor Easterns has developed a fondness for the West.
There are glass decanters there, while our possession here is just an earten pitcher.
A point of pure light, which is called KHUDI,
Is a spark of life, under a covering of our clay.
By love it becomes lasting,
More living, more burning, more glowing.
Love enkindles its intinsic worth,
And evolves its hidden potentialities.
Its nature acquires fire from love,
He was born and bred in a land which smiled as a garden.
I am a plant that grew out of a dead soil.
Beware of the system of democracy
And follow the lead of a man of ripe experience,
Because the brains of two hundred donkeys
Cannot produce the understanding of one human being.
Man pretends to be your prey, but intends to be your hunter.
He spins round you in order to involve you in his chain.
To be with him is the bane of life.
To be near him is poison, and to be away from him is sweet.
With their open eys shall the West and the East witness the Spectacle:
When I warm the blood of the nation of Europe.
Democracy is a system in which, heads are counted but not weighed
The Truth-seeking man whose self has awakened Is like a sword which is cutting and brilliant.
To his keen eye is visible
The power to show what is latent in every atom.
You are the slave of the heavens,
While he is their master.
