The Dog in the Doorway

You wanted the mosque to be a place of goodness, but another came and turned it into a tavern.  
Or you wove a piece of cloth to make a fine robe for wearing.  
You wanted a robe, but your enemy, despite you, turned the cloth into pants.  
What could the cloth do, my dear, except to be subdued by the will of the victor?  
He was subdued, but what is the fault of this cloth? Who is he that is not defeated by the victor?  
When someone, without his will, is driven and a thorn bush is planted in his land and home,  
The homeowner is in such disgrace that such things happen to him.  
I too will become like the people, fresh and new, when I become a companion to such disgrace.  
When the desire of the self becomes the helper, mockery comes, God willing.  
If I am ashamed of the Magi or an infidel, I am not one to think this of God.  
That someone, against his will and despite him, becomes a ruler in His kingdom.  
He takes over His kingdom in such a way that the Creator cannot even breathe.  
He wants to repel him, but he must, and the demon increases his grief every moment.  
One must become a servant of this demon since he is dominant in every gathering.  
So that Satan does not take revenge on me, then who will help me there, the Benefactor?  
He who wills, his desire is fulfilled; how can my affairs be good otherwise?  
Like Satan at the door of the Merciful.  
God forbid, God willing, He is the ruler in place and beyond place.  
No one in His kingdom, without His command, can add even a hair's breadth.  
The kingdom is His, the command is His, the least dog at His door is His Satan.  
If a Turk has a dog at the door, it would be lying with its face and head down.  
The children of the house pull its tail, it is in the hands of the humble children.  
But if a stranger passes by, it attacks him like a male lion.  
For it is severe against the disbelievers, with the friend like a rose, with the enemy like a thorn.  
From the broth that the Turk gave it, it became so loyal and protective.  
So the dog of Satan, which God has made, has a hundred thoughts and tricks within it.  
It makes the faces its food to take away the honor of the good and the bad.  
This broth is the public's honor, from which the dog of Satan finds food.  
At the door of the tent of power, its soul, if there is no sacrifice for the command, say so.  
Flocks of disciples and followers, like a dog stretching its arms at the threshold.  
At the door of the cave of divinity, like a dog, every bit of command is a prominent vein.  
So why is there refuge like a dog, having become sharp from arrogance?  
This refuge is to say, O Turk, stop the error, shout at your dog, open the way.  
So I may come to your tent door, I will ask for a need from your generosity and prestige.  
Since the Turk is helpless from the dog's power, this refuge and this cry are inappropriate.  
The Turk also says refuge from the dog, for I am also stuck with the dog in the homeland.  
You cannot come to this door, I cannot leave the door.  
Now dust on the head of the Turk and the Qanq, for one dog binds both their necks.  
God forbid, the Turk shouts, what is a dog, a male lion bleeds.  
O you who have called yourself the lion of God, for years you have been stuck with a dog.  
How can this dog hunt for you when you have clearly become the dog's prey?