Once, during a journey to the Hijaz, a group of young, noble-hearted companions were with me.
At times, they would hum and recite meaningful verses, while a devout man on the path disapproved of the dervishes’ state and was unaware of their pain.
We arrived at the encampment of the Banu Hilal; a black child from the Arab tribe came out and sang a song that made the birds fall from the sky.
I saw the devout man’s camel start to dance, throwing off the devout man and running away.
I said: “O Sheikh! It affected an animal, yet it makes no difference to you.”
Do you know what that morning bird said to me?
What kind of person are you, unaware of love?
The camel is moved by the Arab’s poetry and joy
If you have no taste, you are a creature with a twisted nature
When the morning breezes blow over the plains
The branches of the willow sway, not the hard stone
Everything you see is in praise of Him
A heart understands this meaning that has ears
It is not only the nightingale that sings praises to the rose
Every thorn has a tongue in praise
