This ethereal world of ours
Is alien to worthless trash.
And that which craves it most
Is a creature but unnameable.
If you do contemplate it;
whatever is called good here.
You see nothing in existence
That has an origin pure.
It's said that the best musk
Is the blood of the deer;
And the treasured ambergris
Is either vomit or faecal matter
The well—praised honey
Is spat out by an insect.
And the best of necklaces
Are but from bits of stone.
The milk drunk by everyone
Is also of the blood.
Though you may not think so.
It nevertheless is true,
Whatever your heart desires
Is such in this world.
This then is the perfect evidence
That nothing we have is permanent.
Our final cramped abode
Is a place called the grave.
Before our clothes get threadbare
We may have to go there.
My brother. my brother!
You are indeed my good brother.
Do not get taken in by this world
This is my advice to you.
Abdulla Fahumy Didi (20th century) Maldives
Source: Gestures: An Anthology of South Asian Poetry edited by K. Satchidānandan (1996), Sahitya Akademi, New Delhi, pp. 207-208
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