“Yezdan, Yezdan” was the intimate breath of Sheriar;
This ancient name was his preserver and protector.
Walking, he would remember the timeless Godman;
As for the world, since a boy he did not give a damn.
The worship of the resurgent sun was his special birthright:
He was born at that time when day triumphs over night.
The sacred flame burning in his heart would never go out;
Day and night were devoted to defeating every doubt.
He was a fakir who had mastered base and dark desire;
The light in his eyes was a pure and matchless fire.
Sheriar’s thirst brought the angel to stand before him;
The waters of heaven filled his cupped hands to the brim.
Never has there been a darvish like the father of God;
This pretender repents that he is no more than a clod!
