God Most High created him, naming him human,
Granting him the title of noblest of creatures, as a sultan
To him is unveiled the secret of all creatures,
Of being and of space, of all existent things
The mind cannot grasp the secret of Adam's creation:
That he should, of his own will, choose nonbeing
We raise no objection to his identity,
But I have a question about his essence
Is there firmness in the word of all of them?
How many keep faith with their covenant?
Were they not all present at that Feast of Alast?
A strange state, beyond all explanation
You who know, have you an answer to this question?
What is the nature of this wondrous state?
Is he flesh, is he bone, is he matter and meaning?
Is he ebb and flow, or merely a barren life?
Is he pearl, is he ruby, is he the flowing soul?
The vessel or the contents, or a universal tongue?
Is he soul within soul, essence within essence?
Is he that eye which watches the Beloved from within?
Is man, I wonder, the dot above the nun?
A divine opening verse, a closing verse of “I was a hidden treasure”
Is he pure light, or dust from head to toe?
The secret of unity, or a mirage from head to toe?
Is he the tanbur, the string, the sound, the plectrum?
The ney, the neyzen, the breath, the address?
Is he the alembic, the water, the distilled water?
Or, beyond all doubt, is he but a drop of water?
What does “insan” mean? Derived from intimacy
What does “insan” mean? The splendor of creation
Man is man indeed, sultan of this world,
It is man, surely, who is the manifestation of the Truth
A riddle are these unsolvable mysteries;
Only the eye of inner insight can discern them
Is your address to the truth too much or too little?
Is it supplication or coyness, this question and answer?
Konya, 1979