In the name of the Lord of both wisdom and mind

To nothing sublimer can thought way find

A wise young man of pure lineage

Came from the sea to the port of Rome

They saw virtue, poverty, and discernment in him

They placed his belongings in a revered spot

One day, the leader of the pious said to the man

To scatter the mosque's dust and sweep it

As soon as the wayfarer heard these words

He went out and was never seen there again

His companions and the elder concluded

That the poor man had no care for service

The next day, the servant accosted him on the road

Saying, you did poorly with your vain decision

Did you not know, O vain child

That men achieve heights through service?

He began to weep sincerely and sorrowfully

Saying, O soul-nurturing, delightful friend

I saw neither dust nor dirt in that place

I was the one unclean in that holy place

So I inevitably stepped back

To keep the mosque pure from dirt and rubbish

This is the way for the dervish

To always humble himself

If you seek elevation, choose humility

For that rooftop has no ladder but this