"Should you not gain your wants, my soul, then be not grieved..."

by Imam 'Ali bin Husayn al-Habshi
(translated by Shaykh Abdal Hakim Murad)

Should you not gain your wants, my soul, then be not grieved;
But hasten to that banquet which your Lord's bequeathed

And when a thing for which you ask is slow to come,

Then know that often through delay are gifts received

Find solace in privation and respect its due,
For only by contentment is the heart relieved

And know that when the trials of life have rendered you
Despairing of all hope, and of all joy bereaved,

Then shake yourself and rouse yourself from heedlessness,
And make pure hope a meadow that you never leave

Your Maker's gifts take subtle and uncounted forms.
How fine the fabric of the world His hands have weaved

The journey done, they came to the water of life,
And all the caravan drank deep, their thirst relieved

Far be it from the host to leave them thirsty there,
His spring pours forth all generosity received

My Lord, my trust in all Your purposes is strong,
That trust is now my shield; I'm safe, and undeceived

All those who hope for grace from You will feel Your rain;
Too generous are You to leave my branch unleaved

May blessings rest upon the loved one, Muhammad,
Who's been my means to high degrees since I believed

He is my fortress and my handhold, so my soul,
Hold fast, and travel to a joy still unconceived

-----

the Arabic for this poem (in a slightly different version than the one sung) is available here