I say to my near one through flowing tears
when the will to go abroad is on me:
Let me make my journey, let me pass unmourned.
The stars that wander are the noble ones.
Travel leads to betterment of outcome.
Sitting still in comfort is the way of ruin.
In darkness I see illumination,
as if day switched place with night,
when lightning from [auspicious] Sana‘a reminds me
my destination isn't far away.
Why should I rejoice at spending nights out in the desert
when high above Ursa Minor is my home?
And how will I be food for worms, with
four elements on every side?
How long will I live next to Draco
with constellated serpents for my friends?
My union with that light will be annihilation,
and my passing out of knowing left from right,
and the walls will echo with a pounding
by rejectors of my secrets with their heads.
By Suhrawardi (meter: wāfir)
