My soul, my mercy of many days suggested it, friends:
By my entire existence, I made the city in flux.
So this castle’s incandescent bird is to fly away.
Into the blackness, light’s absence, everyone goes.
Oh my people, hold fast to your good.
My enemies, these munafiq, will find things difficult in their dishonesty.
This man was together with us many years:
Allah himself will judge what to do with him.
All are parts of my body: their mechanism is in such dynamic with the soul,
So that when soul separates from body, these sides shake!
Jubilation of the people at the Judgement of the Almighty!
Honest folk, eternally grateful to Allah.
Khoja Ahmed, your bright bird is taking flight,
Unfortunate one, it’s no longer your decision:
This is the decree of Allah, my friends.
(Koja Ahmed Yasawi was a Sufi Saint from Turkestan, responsible for brining Islam to that land and, consequently, modern day Kazakhstan. This is a translation from his Divan-i-Hikmet by the Tailor and the Matronita Minor.)