He is the Supreme, the Most Exalted.
Warblers, mellifluous-toned, all the parrots of Ind shall
be,
Because of this Pársí sugar-cone which to Bengal goes. [1]
Your letter having reached this mortal spot of isolation was
brought forth and stored in Our treasury of submission and acquiescence. What
thou had written was noted and everything expressed therein was found to be
true and correct. However, they that yearn for the abode of the Beloved [2],
they that circle round the sanctuary of the Desired One, are not apprehensive
of trials and adversities, nor do they flee from that which is ordained by God.
They receive their portion from the ocean of resignation and drink their fill
from the soft-flowing stream of His mercy. They would not surrender the
good-pleasure of the Friend in exchange for the kingdom of both worlds, nor
would they barter that which the Well-Beloved hath decreed in return for
dominion over the realms of the infinite. They would eagerly drink the venom of
woe as if it were the water of life and would drain deadly poison to its bitter
dregs just as a sweet and life-giving draught. In the arid wastes of desolation
they are stirred with enthusiasm through the remembrance of the Friend, and in
the dreary wilds of adversity they are eager and impatient to offer themselves
as a sacrifice. Unhesitatingly have they renounced their lives and directed
their steps towards the abode of the Best Beloved. They have closed their eyes
to the world and fixed their gaze upon the beauteous countenance of the Friend,
cherishing no desire but the presence of the loved One and seeking no
attainment save reunion with Him. They fly with the feathers of trust in God,
and soar with the wings of adherence unto His Will. In their estimation a
blood-shedding blade is more desirable than finest silk and a piercing dart
more acceptable than mother’s milk. ‘High-spirited souls by the myriad are
deemed necessary in this path, To lay down a hundred lives with every fleeting
breath.’ [3]