A RING TO ME IS BONDAGE

I do not think of prayer-mats,

But I do think of a hundred roads

Which pass through a hundred gardens

full of silk-tassel trees;

I know the Kibla; ⁽¹⁾

It has its place where happiness is;

And I say daily prayers

On the Silk Roads,

With the music of sparrows.

I do not know what Affection means,

Or what can be the difference

between one land and the other.

Aloneness is what I call Happiness

And desert is what I call Home,

And whatever makes me sad I call Love.

To me a five-pound note means Wealth;

I describe anyone who picks a flower

as Blind;

And in my eyes a net,

that separates the fish from water,

is a Murderer.

I look at the sea with envy

And say to myself:

"How small you are!"

Perhaps the sea

Also feels the same

When it joins the ocean!

I do not know what is Night,

But Day is what I understand well.

To me a flower-bush is a Village

And a short walk in the gardens

of memories, Freedom,

And any meaningless smile, Joy.

To me anybody who has a cage

in his possession

is a Gaoler;

And I see any thought

that may remain useless in my mind,

as a Wall;

To me a ring is Bondage.

I do not think of prayer-mats,

But I do think of a hundred roads

Which pass through a hundred gardens

full of silk-tassel trees.