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The Cup Of Truth

Since Abdal handed me the Cup of Truth
All’s equal – mosque and altar are the same.
I burn, surrendering to Gnostic light.
Palace or ruin – both have equal claim.

Thought died, and of me only dust remained.
First I was mud and after fire and flame:
Outside I roasted, inwardly I burned.
Kebab or skewer – both have equal claim.

So passed I by a space that formed no place
And walked before a field which had no name,
Perplexed to find creation lacking form.
Exile or homeland – both have equal claim.

My passions led me, greed consumed my soul.
Though reasoning spelt Truth, I sank in shame:
A stone could teach me qualities of love.
Koran or verses – both have equal claim.

Yes, Makhtumkuli lingered at that place
Where sheikhs jumped up to join a dancing game.
The beauty of the One I loved shone forth.
Water or wine – they both have equal claim.

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