We worship our Creator when we're newly born,
To think of him again perhaps - only when trouble-worn!
This is what Makhtumkuli says at russet dawn
As the night steals off with its single silver horn,
When he thinks on the blacknesses of Judgement Morn!

Be grateful for your health before you meet disease,
Honour your illnesses before you die,
Appreciate dry land before you drown at sea.
Be happy for your youth before your years drain by.
In every case there stands the matter of degree.

As to your inner self: have you control of it?
You let your tongue prefer its sound to better sense,
You let your eyes devour a girl and flatter her -
Meanwhile, your pride grows like a tree, shady, immense.
Before you knew your own sly ways, happy you were!

Once you were grown adult, action was all your joy -
To chase a hare or deer, or wrestle with a friend,
Even by sword to take a country or a town,
As if your roving days on earth would never end,
And you were just a verb - a verb and not a noun.

But such events can never stay the changing world.
Leave boastfulness and give your favourite gifts away.
This is what Makhtumkuli says at russet dawn,
"Through brief, make yours a day of light, till light of day
Fades before the blacknesses of Judgement Morn!"