In the old city of Poona, Sheriar’s cafe served everyman;
The lips of the matchless dervish repeated “Yezdan, Yezdan”!
The fakir whose poverty was pure gold, never had ambition
except to see his son revealed as the Zoroaster of his vision.
Merwan’s destiny was a perfect mystery to the family,
except the father whose polished heart perceived reality.
Young Merwan would serve drink to the usual customers;
he would not take money from the poor he called brother.
All high culture depends on the friendliness of cafe spirit,
where the purity of youth and elder serve tea and biscuit.
But the dagger hidden in cloak brought it all to an end:
the partner who defrauded Sheriar proved to be no friend.
The greatest dervish of our time was left with his wife’s tears;
Darvish adds that Merwan, like his father, lived with no fears.
