Shame! Shame!

On a day during Ramadan, a Bektashi,

In the minutes close to iftar time,

Goes to one of the

Wealthy neighborhoods of Istanbul.

Perhaps one of the mansions,

In the hope of being invited to iftar... 

Huge mansions,

Lush green gardens.

In the gardens too 

All kinds of fruit trees...

Flowers of every color and variety.

Pleasant scents spread from the flowers.

The only thing missing from the iftar tables is bird's milk.

Our Bektashi is in poor attire.

He gazes at the garden in admiration.

He says to himself,

"Heaven must be a place like this..."

While the Bektashi was looking on, the door of the mansion opened.

A large

Quite tall

Man stepped out.

He stared sternly at the Bektashi.

And the Bektashi looked at him

With uneasy, fearful eyes. 

You know how in front of the most luxurious hotels

Large, burly

People dressed like marshals, generals, or the like

Stand there,

This man is just like that.

The finest pasha, marshal, vizier

Whatever you want to call him,

Of his era,

The man is wearing the most imposing attire.

The man himself is imposing as well.

The imposing man,

asked the Bektashi

in a stern voice:

-What is going on, holy one? What are you looking for here?

The Bektashi replied in a fearful voice,

- The mansion is very beautiful. 

I was looking at it in admiration, but...

When I saw you, my admiration grew even more.

He asked with curiosity:

-Whose mansion is this, I wonder? Is it yours?

The imposing, well-dressed man replied:

-This mansion is the mansion of so-and-so bey.

Bektashi, with this imposing stature of yours and these expensive clothes of yours

You must be the brother of so-and-so bey.

The imposing man laughed. He said,

-No, I am a servant of so-and-so bey.

The Bektashi raised his hands in shame.

He called out to God:

-Shame! Shame! He said.

With both hands at once

The patched-up poor man

showed his tattered, worn-out clothes.

Look at your servant, he said.

Then he pointed to the man of the lord. 

The most beautiful and magnificent clothes.

The man of the lord,

standing in front of the most luxurious hotels, 

just like those fancy, imposing doormen...

The Bektashi said:

-Look, look closely, he said. 

Look at the servant of the Lord as well, he said.

Look and feel shame.

The Bektashi said to himself,

-Is this the truth, is this justice?

Can this wheel turn like this?

Hu to the Truth!  He said.

Slowly

He walked away.

His final words were:

-Every day has its own harvest. 

The justice of truth will come one day.