the angels have bowed down to you and drowned
your soul in being, past all sound –
do not despise yourself, for there is none
who could with you sustain comparison;
do not torment yourself — your soul is all,
your body but a fleeting particle.
this all will clarify, and in its light
each particle will shine, distinctly bright –
as flesh remains an agent of the soul,
your soul’s an agent of the sacred whole.
but “part” and “whole” must disappear at last;
the way is one, and number is surpassed.
a hundred thousand clouds above you press;
their rain is pure, unending happiness;
and when the desert blooms with flowers, their scent
and beauty minister to your content;
the prayers of all the angels, all they do,
all their obedience, God bestows on you.
farid ud-din attar (persia, 12th century)
english version by afkham darbandi and dick davis
you can read "the conference of the birds" of which this is a small part, right here