The dervish, in his freedom

The dervish, in his freedom,
Guards the secret divine
The secret that he shares
With Gabriel’s spirit.

Who knows how much havoc
Has been wrought in the world,
By the myopic thought
Of the Sufi and the poet?

Have a tiger-baffling glance,
That pierces the soul,
Not a lily-livered sigh,
A sheepish look of fear.

What thou dost not have,
Is a noble, luminous soul,
What thou dost have,
Is an case—fattened rosy health.