Why the Poet Is of Good Cheer
The new Moon's silver sickle, and the Night's starfields I saw;
And, for my own life's reaping-time, fell on my spirit awe.
" Awake, awake, good Genius! " I cried; " look, here's the sun! "
" Woe's me! " — " Nay! " spake he sweetly: " the deeds which thou hast done.
" Are done. Have thou no terrors! Say, " Settle all accounts,
Earth! with this corpse I leave thee, while my glad spirit mounts."
" Say, " Sky! boast not thy starry pomp! we who God's Sufis be,
Sell moonbeams at a barleycorn, and the Pleiades for three!" "
And, for my own life's reaping-time, fell on my spirit awe.
" Awake, awake, good Genius! " I cried; " look, here's the sun! "
" Woe's me! " — " Nay! " spake he sweetly: " the deeds which thou hast done.
" Are done. Have thou no terrors! Say, " Settle all accounts,
Earth! with this corpse I leave thee, while my glad spirit mounts."
" Say, " Sky! boast not thy starry pomp! we who God's Sufis be,
Sell moonbeams at a barleycorn, and the Pleiades for three!" "
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