Number 9

Nothing but the scar on the heart blooms in our spring; our tulip field drinks water from a stream of flame. Every tulip color that broke open became sunlight; no flower of our spring was ever touched by withering. In all four seasons our rosebush keeps blossoming; the flower has sworn a bond of brotherhood with our thorn. We, the pure of nature, have made our peace with the world; no mirror takes on dimness from our dust. Love laid us level with the dark earth; this was the reason for our standing in the world. Though we are thin and worn, day and night the turning sky rides full speed, hunting us down. Fayyaz, your style of speech was always fresh, yet in our age this fresh style has grown fresher still.