By Yunus Emre

I am called by these folk ‘Sufi’ and I’ll use my rosary
ceaselessly…
the wisdom my tongue speaks my heart won’t accept
easily.
Although I’m allowed to spread the Word, a lie is my piety;
what I care for is in another place, the Path I cannot
see!
Wise may be my words but a mere cloak for show I know…
I do not turn to poverty of heart, in it is pride in me
only!
I’m a dervish, patience is gone, Truth denied by my tongue:
words I hear me say all day in my ear inside me are
stupidity.
Those seeing me kiss my hand, see my dervish cap, cloak…
talk of me as if I’m one without sin, they don’t see
reality!
Superficial is my worship, my words pleasant, cheerful…
if they could see my inner work, a thousand years of
trickery!
My Sufi face the people see as they say ‘hello’, in awe…
if I did what they bid, weak hands wouldn’t give to
me.
I’m seen as a dervish; though words are sweet, I’m not…
that one who, has given up religion… has not my
hypocrisy.
To your God give your failings Yunus, trust only in God:
God won’t treat you like you did, God’s grace is…
trustworthy!

Translated by Paul Smith