"He was not chaff which flew on the wind, He was not water which froze in winter, He was not a comb which was broken with a hair, He was not a seed with the earth crushed, He was a treasure of gold in this dust-pit, For he valued the two worlds at a barley corn, The earthly frame he flung to the earth, Soul and intellect he bore to heaven, The pure elixir mingled with the wine-dregs, Came to the jar’s surface, and the lees settled apart. The second soul, which the vulgar know not, I protest by God that he surrendered to the Beloved."