النَفسُ في العَقلِ إِذ تَصفو لِرُؤيَتِهِ

النَفسُ في العَقلِ إِذ تَصفو لِرُؤيَتِهِ

لَهُ مِثالٌ تَراهُ فَاِعقِلِ المَثَلا

لَهُ مِثالٌ تَراهُ فَاِعقِلِ المَثَلا

The soul, within the intellect, when it grows clear enough to behold it,

The soul in reason when it is pure for its sight

Is its likeness, which it sees—so grasp the likeness—

It has an image it sees, so understand the parable

كَالعَينِ تَشهَدُ في المِرآةِ صورَتَها

كَالعَينِ تَشهَدُ في المِرآةِ صورَتَها

وَما اِستَحلا وَلا حالا وَلا اِنتِقِلا

وَما اِستَحلا وَلا حالا وَلا اِنتِقِلا

Like the eye beholding its own image in the mirror,

Like the eye that beholds in the mirror its form

And neither has indwelt, changed, or moved.

Without having moved or changed or transported at all