To think th’ expression's wrong sad weakness shows of mind...

To think th’ expression's wrong sad weakness shows of mind; Wisdom divine's a kernel; human reason, rind. Twist then thyself; change not the sense of words divine; Conceive thy nose at fault; chide not the sweet woodbine. O ‘Alī! Thou who mind and eye entirely art! Relate a little of the knowledge in thy heart. 25 Thy calmness is a sword that cleaves our minds in twain; The fountain of thy wisdom makes us whole again. Speak out!

I know these mysteries are Jehovah's own; To kill without a sword's a power of God well known. He is Creator, without limbs and without tools; The Giver of all blessings, copious as sea's pools. How many kinds of wine are savoured by our souls, While eye and ear perceive not whence the wave that rolls! Pray tell us, ‘Alī,-falcon, soaring in heaven's heights,- 30 What didst thou see that instant, to forego thy rights?

Thy eyes have learnt to catch seraphic visions’ gleam; Around thee, all unconscious are, as in a dream. Thou seest the moon, all brightly shining in the sky; We see but darkness, clouds above us seem to fly. Thou seest three moons together, shining bright, out-spread; While three of us are scarcely sure one's overhead. All three have eyes and ears fixed on thee, in suspense, In keenest expectation. I'm stone of offence. "Is this a spell to witch the eyes? Is it the truth?

35 To me thou art a wolf; I'm Joseph to thee, sooth. Though worlds there may be, eighteen thousand globes, and more; Not every eye has power to witness all their store. Disclose thy secret, ‘Alī,-God's own 'Chosen One!' 1 How many 'judges’ errors' work God's will alone! Pray tell me what, just now, has been revealed to thee; Or I'll disclose the vision I've been made to see. If thou the secret keep, I will declare its sense, Moon-like, on me thy knowledge shines, with light intense.

But if the moon's bright disk break forth from ’neath the cloud, 40 Poor midnight travellers safely, then, pursue their road. They then are safe from error, risk no wandering vain; Protection of the moonlight shields from terror's chain. The mutely-teaching promptings of the silvery moon, If couched in words, would homewards guide us doubly soon." Thou art "the Gate;" the Prophet, "Science’ City" is, 1 Thou art the ray that beams from lustrous sun of his.

Then open, Gate I Unfold thyself to those who seek! Let rind of science overgrow their minds, all meek. Stand open, Gate! Thou portal of God's mercy sure! Thy court's the court of Him "who hath no peer," secure!