If you would ever question me,
This would be my outright answer to Thee:
True, I sinned – brutalized my own being,
But what have I done against you, my King?
To shun death by hunger, many a time,
In prison, I had to eat dirt and grime.
Did your dominion become any less?
Did I usurp any of your prowesses?
You built me a bridge to cross, thin as hair;
Out of your traps I’m to choose my own snare.
I wish its firm foundation will hold sway
So those who cross it know it’s the true way.
A scale is suitable for a grocer,
For a small merchant or a jeweller.
Sin, though, is the vilest, filthiest vice,
The profit of those unworthy of Grace.
No harm ever came from Yunus to you;
Open, secret – all things are in your view.
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