My Fight

My struggle, from the moment I drew my first breath, Was written on my forehead; I came into being through my struggle; My struggle grew with me, and I grew with my struggle. My struggle, with the headless shoulders of the one whose head is without a whirlwind, The whirlwind without truth, And truth without Allah, with all of existence, While my nonexistence is revived through it, and my existence is annihilated by it, Can a struggle be imagined in which its name is not mentioned? This world, which has become one with the entirety Of the struggle from head to toe. It is engraved in the heart of the bird flying in the sky, The ant roaming on the ground, The fish swimming in the water, With that divine embroidery!