Outside, it is futile to search for light;
I tell all of you who practice the Way:
It's useless to labor your spirit in such striving,
You have a pure essence within,
Without a name, without a sign,
Call it, and it instantly calls back,
Hear it, it resonates in harmony,
See it, it effulges the pure light:
Your life force, and of everything,
Yet it has no one place to dwell,
Be careful, don't think it is in the dungeon of self —
The faqirs who could break off the shackles of self,
Know well, how harmful is the clangour of it's music,
They explore in depths the fathomless sea of their souls,
To know their essence, and gather the scarce pearls
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem