I have no fear of clarity. The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery. There is always more mystery. I have no fear of analysis. The possession of knowledge does not destroy the sense of wonder and mystery.

Was this then human, or divine?
Did it a middle nature share?
What mortal shall declare?
Who shall the secret bounds define?
When the gods work, we see their pow'r;
We see on their high bidding wait
The prosp'rous gales, the storms of fate:
But who their awefull cousils shall explore?
[tr. Potter (1783)]

Whether the image was divine,
Drew from terrestrial particles its birth,
Or from the middle region, how define
By curious search, ye sons of earth?
Far from unravelling Heaven's abstruse intents,
We view the world tost to and fro,
Mark strange vicissitudes of joy and woe,
Discordant and miraculous events.
[tr. Wodhull (1809)]

Whether it was a God, or not a God, or something between, who of mortals can aver, having searched out to the very end, so as to discover, who [indeed] perceives the counsels of the Gods flitting hither and thither in unexpected, contradictory turns of fate?
[tr. Buckley (1850)]

What is god, or what is not god, or what is in between -- what mortal says he has found it by searching the farthest limit, when he sees divine affairs leaping here and there again and back, in contradictory and unexpected chances?
[tr. Coleridge (1891)]

What mortal claims, by searching to the utmost limit, to have found out the nature of God, or of his opposite, or of that which comes between, seeing as he doth this world of man tossed to and fro by waves of contradiction and strange vicissitudes?
[tr. Coleridge, common variant]

Who among men dare say that he, exploring
Even to Creation's farthest limit-line,
Ever hath found the God of our adoring,
That which is not God, or the half-divine --
Who, that beholdeth the decrees of Heaven
This way and that in hopeless turmoil swayed?
[tr. Way (Loeb) (1912)]

Who hath knowledge? Who so wise,
Can tell us what divinities
What spirits of a mingled birth,
Part of heaven and part of earth,
Shape our mortal destinies,
Weaving in the web of chance
Circumstance with circumstance?
Nay, the riddle baffles common wit:
Mortal reason may not compass it.
[tr. Sheppard (1925)]

You who with learned patience plod
Remotest realms of toilsome thought,
Can you by searching find out God,
Or bound his nature? Look at man!
From want to wealth, now forth, now back,
Now tossed from fame to infamy
By unforeseen, ambiguous chance!
[tr. Vellacott (1954), Antistrophe 2]

What is god, what is not god, what is between man
and god, who shall say? Say he has found
the remote way to the absolute
that he has seen god, and come
back to us, and returned there, and come
back again, reason's feet leaping
the void? Who can hope for such fortune?
[tr. Lattimore (1956)]

As for what is god, or not god, or something in between, what mortal having searched can say? The distant end of this enquiry has been found by the man who sees the gods’ fortunes leaping this way and that, and back again in twists of circumstance, contradictory and unforeseen.
[tr. Davie (2002)]

Can any man
After profound research
Say he has the answers to these questions:
What is a god?
What is not a god?
Can there be something in between?
Is knowledge of the gods possible
When you see how gods behave -- their actions
Unstable
Undisciplined
Unpredictable
Randomly jumping now this way
Now that?
[tr. A. Wilson (2007)]

What mortal can possibly claim what is god, what isn’t, what’s in between?
The most a mortal can do is to understand that whatever the gods deliver will turn this way one minute, the other a minute later, only to turn back this way again, with unfathomable consequences.
[tr. Theodoridis (2011)]

What is god or not god, and what lies in between,
What mortal could discover this?
The furthest limit of certainty one has found when she sees
matters divine leaping here and there, back again, chances contradictory, unexpected.
[tr. Ambrose et al. (2018)]

What is god, or what is not god, or what is in between -- what mortal says he has found it by searching the farthest limit, when he sees divine affairs leaping here and there again and back, in contradictory and unexpected chances?
[tr. Coleridge / Helen Heroization Team]

These travelers have departed, and of them all, not one has returned to tell us of the hidden things concealed behind the veil. Oh, devout man, it is by a humble heart, and not by prayer, that the things which concern thy soul will be brought to a favourable issue, for prayer is of no avail to a man without sincerity and contrition.
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 81]

Of all who have set out upon the long journey, who has come back, that I may ask him tidings? My friends, take heed to let naught go by in the hope of hopes for, be sure, you will not come back again.
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 160]

Full many a hill and vale I journeyed o'er;
Journeyed through the world's wide quarters four,
But never heard of pilgrim who returned;
When once they go, they go to come no more.
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 129]

Who e'er returned of all that went before,
To tell of that long road they travel o'er?
Leave naught undone of what you have to do,
For when you go, you will return no more.
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 144/258]

They go away, and none is seen returning,
To teach that other world's recondite learning;
'T will not be shown for dull mechanic prayers,
Gor prayer is naught without true heartfelt yearning.
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 148/266]

Of Those who have the "Long Road" travelled o'er,
Not One will bring Thee News of it, before
Thou too shalt go, and heed Thee that Thou leavest
Without Regret, Thou shalt return no more.
[tr. Garner (1887), 2.7]

Alas, that joy takes flight: not many hearts
The pangs of desolating grief are spared;
No traveller from Death's dark realm returns
To tell us how his fellow-pilgrims fared.
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 56]

Much have I wandered about far and wide,
I have wandered as far as every horizon/;
I have heard of nobody who came from this road,
The road he went by, the road of no return.
[tr. Avery/Heath-Stubbs (1979), # 49]

A man should be satisfied with the light, which it pleaseth the Sunne to communicate unto us by vertue of his beames; and he that shall lift up his eyes to take a greater within his bodie, let him not thinke it strange, if for a reward of his over-weening and arrogancie he loose his sight.
[tr. Florio (1603)]

We are to content ourselves with the light it pleases the sun to communicate to us, by virtue of his rays, and he that will lift up his eyes to take in a greater, let him not think it strange if, for the punishment of his presumption, he thereby lose his sight.
[tr. Cotton (1686)]

We are to content ourselves with the light it pleases the sun to communicate to us, by virtue of his rays; and who will lift up his eyes to take in a greater, let him not think it strange, if for the reward of his presumption, he there lose his sight.
[tr. Cotton/Hazlitt (1877)]

We must be content with the light that it pleases the sun to communicate to us by its rays; and if anyone raises his eyes to gain a greater light from its very body, let him not find it strange if as a penalty for his presumption he loses his sight.
[tr. Frame (1943), 1.32]

We must be content with the light which the Sun vouchsafes to shed on us by its rays: were a man to lift up his eyes to seek a greater light in the Sun itself, let him not find it strange if he is blinded as a penalty for his presumption.
[tr. Screech (1987), 1.32]

No one has ever passed behind the veil that masks the secrets of God. No one shall ever pass behind it ; there is no other dwellingplace for us than the bosom of the earth. Woe 's me that this secret, too, should be so short.
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 19]

All mortal ken is bounded by the veil,
To see beyond man's sight is all too frail;
Yea! earth's dark bosom is his only home; --
Alas! 'twere long to tell the doleful tale.
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 28 or # 47]

For none behind the veil of myst'ries way is;
None in the secret of the world's array is:
Save in earth's breast, for us no place of stay is;
Give ear, for no light matter this I say is.
[tr. Payne (1898), # 60]

No one can pass behind the curtain that veils the secret,
the mind of no one is cognizant of what is there;
save in the heart of earth we have no haven.
Drink wine, for to such talk there is no end.
[tr. Heron-Allen (1898), # 29]

Behind that veil no man has found a way,
Nor knows he anything of life's array,
He has no home but underneath the clay;
Thy truth thy sorrow is, O woeful lay!
[tr. Cadell (1899), # 14]

The secret 's hidden from the mortal eye,
Nor living soul can read the mystery;
Save in the heart of earth, we have no rest;
So fill the bowl, 'twill soon be time to die.
[tr. Roe (1906), # 19]

For none is there a way behind the veil.
Who tries to pierce its secrets but doth fail?
The only place of rest is earth's dark breast,
Alas, that far from short should be the tale!
[tr. Thompson (1906), # 29]

Behind the veil of the secrets there is no way for anybody.
Of this scheme of things the soul of no man has any knowledge.
There is no dwelling-place except in the heart of the dust.
Drink wine, for such tales are not short to tell.
[tr. Christensen (1927), # 61]

No one has access to the veil of mystery;
Of this system of life no one has any knowledge.
Except in the heart of the earth there is no resting-place.
Listen, for these tales are not short.
[tr. Rosen (1928), # 42]

Behind the secret curtain none can go,
How life is decked and painted none can know;
But then we have to wait in dusty pits --
Alas this endless tale! and weary show!
[tr. Tirtha (1941), # 148]

No man has the way within the veil of mysteries; of this arrangement the soul of none is aware: there is no alighting-place, save in the heart of the dark earth -- drink wine, for such fables are not short.
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 46]

The world we look at is a painted veil
Which hides God’s presence and the Will Divine,
And since its legends are not briefly told,
Here is their gist -- imbibe it with your wine:
This world’s the only pleasance that we know,
The home where we’ve been cherished since our birth,
And, when we die, our bodies lie at peace
Within a darkened sanctuary of earth.
[tr. Bowen (1976), # 46, "The World"]

No one knows the way through the curtain of mysteries,
No one's soul has true knowledge of this natural life,
There is no resting-place but in the heart of earth,
Drink wine because these tales are never finished.
[tr. Avery/Heath-Stubbs (1979), # 158]

Mankind loves misterys -- a hole in the ground, excites more wonder than a star in the heavens.  

Mankind in general love MYSTERIES. A hole in the ground generally excites more wonder and stirs up more curiosity than a strange star in the heavens.

In daring drains
I sing, admitted to the lofty fanes,
Fill'd with the Glory of th' Eternal One.
There saw I things beyond Creation's bourne.
Which none who from her flaming bounds return
Can tell, when soaring Thought is launch'd so far
In Being's vast Abyss, that Mem'ry fails.
Nor dares pursue, altho' with crowded sails
She tries the Voyage o'er th' eternal Bar.
But some small remnant of that heav'nly Spoil,
From that strange Voyage won with arduous toil,
To her dear native soil, the Muse shall bear.
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 1-3]

In heav’n,
That largeliest of his light partakes, was I,
Witness of things, which to relate again
Surpasseth power of him who comes from thence;
For that, so near approaching its desire
Our intellect is to such depth absorb’d,
That memory cannot follow. Nathless all,
That in my thoughts I of that sacred realm
Could store, shall now be matter of my song.
[tr. Cary (1814)]

In heaven, that drinks the deepest of the light,
Was I, and saw what to recount to sense
He knows not how, nor can, who comes from thence;
Because, approaching nearer its desire,
Dives intellect to such a depth profound
That memory fails, and cannot go beyond
In truth of that dominion's power, whate'er
I can find room to treasure in my mind,
Be now the subject in my song enshrined.
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]

Within that heaven which most his light receives
Was I, and things beheld which to repeat
Nor knows, nor can, who from above descends;
Because in drawing near to its desire
Our intellect ingulphs itself so far,
That after it the memory cannot go.
Truly whatever of the holy realm
I had the power to treasure in my mind
Shall now become the subject of my song.
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]

In the heaven which receives most of His light was I, and I beheld things which whoso descends thence has neither knowledge nor power to tell again, seeing that as it draws near to its desire our understanding plunges so deep, that the memory cannot go after it. Howbeit, so much of the holy realm as I could treasure up within my mind shall now be matter for my lay.
[tr. Butler (1885)]

In the sky which most partaketh of his light
Was I, and things I saw, which to repeat
Knows not, and cannot whoe'er leaves that height.
Because approaching to its yearned-for seat
The intellect deep diveth there so long
That memory behind it cannot fleet.
Of what to the holy kingdom doth belong
Which I had power to treasure in my mind,
Truly shall now be subject of my song.
[tr. Minchin (1885)]

In the heaven that receives most of its light I have been, and have seen things which he who descends from thereabove neither knows how nor is able to recount; because, drawing near to its own desire, our understanding enters so deep, that the memory cannot follow. Truly whatever of the Holy Realm I could treasure up in my mind shall now be the theme of my song.
[tr. Norton (1892)]

In that heaven which most receiveth of his light, have I been ; and have seen things which whoso descendeth from up there hath nor knowledge nor power to re-tell;
because, as it draweth nigh to its desire, our intellect sinketh so deep, that memory cannot go back upon the track.
Nathless, whatever of the holy realm I had the power to treasure in my memory, shall now be matter of my song.
[tr. Wicksteed (1899)]

I was in the heaven that most receives His light and I saw things which he that descends from it has not the knowledge or the power to tell again; for our intellect, drawing near to its desire, sinks so deep that memory cannot follow it. Nevertheless, so much of the holy kingdom as I was able to treasure in my mind shall now be matter of my song.
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]

In that heaven which partakes most of His light
I have been, and have beheld such things as who
Comes down thence has no wit nor power to write;
Such depth our understanding deepens to
When it draws near unto its longing's home
That memory cannot backward with it go.
Nevertheless what of the blest kingdom
Could in my memory, for its treasure, stray
Shall now the matter of my song become.
[tr. Binyon (1943)]

I have been in that Heaven of His most light,
and what I saw, those who descend from there
lack both the knowledge and the power to write.
For as our intellect draws near its goal
it opens to such depths of understanding
as memory cannot plumb within the soul.
Nevertheless, whatever portion time
still leaves me of the treasure of that kingdom
shall now become the subject of my rhyme.
[tr. Ciardi (1970)]

I have been in the heaven that most receives of his light, and have seen things which whoso descends from up there has niehter the knowledge nor the power to relate, because, as draws near to its desire, our intellect enters so deep that memory cannot go back upon the track. Nevertheless, so much of the holy kingdom as I could treasure up in my mind shall now be the matter of my song.
[tr. Singleton (1975)]

I have been in the heaven which takes most of his light,
And I have seen things which cannot be told,
Possibly, by anyone who comes down from up there;
Because, approaching the object of its desires,
Our intellect is so deeply absorbed
That memory cannot follow it all the way.
Nevertheless, what I was able to store up
Of that holy kingdom, in my mind,
Will now be the matter of my poem.
[tr. Sisson (1981)]

I was within the heaven that receives more
of His light; and I saw things that he
who from that height descends, forgets or can
not speak; for nearing its desired end,
our intellect sinks into an abyss
so deep that memory fails to follow it.
Nevertheless, as much as I, within
my mind, could treasure of the holy kingdom
shall now become the matter of my song.
[tr. Mandelbaum (1984)]

I have been in His brightest shining heaven
and seen such things that no man, once returned
from there, has wit or skill to tell about;
for when our intellect draws near its goal
and fathoms to the depths of its desire,
the memory is powerless to follow;
but still, as much of Heaven’s holy realm
as I could store and treasure in my mind
shall now become the subject of my song.
[tr. Musa (1984)]

In the heaven that receives most of his light have I been, and I have seen things that one who comes down from there cannot remember and cannot utter,
for as it draws near to its desire, our intellect goes so deep that the memory cannot follow it.
Nevertheless, as much of the holy kingdom as I was able to treasure up in my mind will now become the matter of my song.
[tr. Durling (2011)]

I have been in that Heaven that knows his light most, and have seen things, which whoever descends from there has neither power, nor knowledge, to relate: because as our intellect draws near to its desire, it reaches such depths that memory cannot go back along the track.
Nevertheless, whatever, of the sacred regions, I had power to treasure in my mind, will now be the subject of my labour.
[tr. Kline (2002)]

High in that sphere which takes from Him most light
I was -- I was! -- and saw things there that no one
who descends knows how or ever can repeat.
For, drawing near to what it most desires,
our intellect so sinks into the deep
no memory can follow it that far.
As much, though, truly of that holy realm
as I could keep as treasure in my mind
will now become the substance of my song.
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2007)]

I was in that heaven which receives
more of His light. He who comes down from there
can neither know nor tell what he has seen,
for, drawing near to its desire,
so deeply is our intellect immersed
that memory cannot follow after it.
Nevertheless, as much of the holy kingdom
as I could store as treasure in my mind
shall now become the subject of my song.
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]

And though I saw where most of His brightness falls,
What I have seen cannot be represented
Here, for those who have entered Heaven, and descended,
Have come so close to what our minds desire
They sink far in, and bury their knowledge, their power,
So deep that memory cannot recover
A thing. But I will try, truly, to present
Whatever remains in my mind of that holy kingdom
And make it the substance of this song I will sing.
[tr. Raffel (2010)]

I was in the heaven that gets more of its rays
And saw things that those who come down
From on high can’t grasp or else can’t say,
Because nearing what one wants,
Our intellect is so overcome
That our memory is left behind.
Even so, as much of the Holy Kingdom
As my mind could hold on to
Will now be the subject of my song.
[tr. Bang (2021)]

I love thee not, Sabidius; ask you why?
I do not love thee, let that satisfy!
[tr. Wright (1663)]

I love thee not, but why, I can't display.
I love thee not, is all that I can say.
[tr. Killigrew (1695)]

SABBY, I love thee not, nor can say why.
One thing I can say, SAB: thee love not I.
[tr. Elphinston (1782)]

I love you not, Sabidis, I cannot tell why.
This only can I tell, I love you not.
[tr. Amos (1858), 3.86, cited as 1.33]

I do not love you, Sabidius, nor can I say why;
I can only say this, I do not love you.
[tr. Bohn's Classical (1897)]

I do not love you, Sabidius; and I can't say why.
This only I can say: I do not love you.
[tr. Ker (1919)]

I like you not, Sabidius, and I can't tell why. All I can tell is this: I like you not.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1993)]

I don’t love you, Sabidius, no, I can’t say why:
All I can say is this, that I don’t love you.
[tr. Kline (2006)]

Mister Sabidius, you pain me.
I wonder (some) why that should be
And cannot tell -- a mystery.
You inexplicably pain me.
[tr. Wills (2007)]

Sabidius, I dislike you, but why this is so true
I can't say, I can only say I don't like you.
[tr. Bovie (1970)]

Sabinus, I don’t like you. You know why?
Sabinus, I don’t like you. That is why.
[tr. Cunningham (1971)]

Sabidius, I don't like you. Why? No clue.
I just don't like you. That will have to do.
[tr. McLean (2014)]

I love thee not, Nell,
But why I can't tell;
Yet this I know well,
I love thee not, Nell.
[Letter to Thomas Fuller in Virtus Rediviva (1661)]

I do not like thee, Dr. Fell,
The reason why I cannot tell;
But this, I'm sure, I know full well,
I do not like thee, Dr. Fell.
[Works, Vol. 4 (1774)]

I do not love you, Dr. Fell,
But why I cannot tell;
But this I know full well,
I do not love you, Dr. Fell.

I do not like you, Jesse Helms.
I can’t say why I’m underwhelmed,
but I know one thing sure and true:
Jesse Helms, I don’t like you.
[tr. Matthews (1995)]

• "Familiarity produces contempt, but infrequency conciliates admiration."
  [tr. Taylor (1822)]
• "Familiarity breeds contempt, but privacy gains admiration." [
  Works of Apuleius (1853)]
• "Familiarity breeds contempt, but concealment excites interest."
  [National Review (1858-04)]

Not to be too intelligible. Most part do not esteem what they conceive, but admire what they understand not. [...] Many praise that which they can give no reason for, when it is asked them: because they reverence as a mystery all that is hard to be comprehended, and extoll it, by reason they hear it extolled.
[Flesher ed. (1685)]

Do not Explain overmuch. Most men do not esteem what they understand, and venerate what they do not see. [...] Many praise a thing without being able to tell why, if asked. The reason is that they venerate the unknown as a mystery, and praise it because they hear it praised.
[tr. Jacobs (1892)]

A Bit Vague. For most men have low regard for what they understand, and venerate only what is beyond them. [...] Many praise, but if asked can give no reason: Why? for they revere all that is hidden because mysterious, and they sing its praises, because they hear its praises being sung.
[tr. Fischer (1937)]

The interests of society require the observation of those moral precepts only in which all religions agree, (for all forbid us to murder, steal, plunder, or bear false witness.) and that we should not intermeddle with the particular dogmas in which all religions differ, and which are totally unconnected with morality. in all of them we see good men, & as many in one as another. The varieties in the structure & action of the human mind as in those of the body, are the work of our creator, against which it cannot be a religious duty to erect the standard of uniformity.

I cannot conceive of a God who rewards and punishes his creatures, or has a will of the kind that we experience in ourselves. Neither ca I nor would I want to conceive of an individual that survives his physical death; let feeble souls, from fear or absurd egoism, cherish such thoughts. I am satisfied with they mystery of the eternity of life and with the awareness and a glimpse of the marvelous structure of the existing world, together with the devoted striving to comprehend a portion, be it ever so tiny, of the reason that manifests itself in nature.

— "The World As I See It [Mein Weltbild] [tr. Bargmann (1954)]

I cannot conceive of a God who rewards and punishes his creatures, or has a will of the type of which we are conscious in ourselves. An individual who should survive his physical death is also beyond my comprehension, nor do I wish it otherwise; such notions are for the fears or absurd egoism of feeble souls. Enough for me the mystery of the eternity of life, and the inkling of the marvellous structure of reality, together with the single-hearted endeavor to comprehend a portion, be it never so tiny, of the reason that manifests itself in nature.

— "The World As I See It [Mein Weltbild] [tr. Harris (1934)]

To me it suffices to wonder at these secrets and to attempt humbly to grasp with my mind a mere image of the lofty structure of all there is.

[Es ist mir genug, diese Geheimnisse staunend zu ahnen und zu versuchen, von der erhabenen Struktur des Seienden in Demut ein mattes Abbild geistig zu erfassen.]

— Reduced variant in "My Credo Mein Glaubensbekenntnis]" (Aug 1932)

The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed. It was the experience of mystery -- even if mixed with fear -- that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, our perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which only in their most primitive forms are accessible to our minds: it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute true religiosity. In this sense, and only this sense, I am a deeply religious man.

— "The World As I See It [Mein Weltbild]" [tr. Bargmann (1954)]

The fairest thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. He who knows it not and can no longer wonder, no longer feel amazement, is as good as dead, a snuffed-out candle. It was the experience of mystery -- even if mixed with fear -- that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, of the manifestations of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which are only accessible to our reason in their most elementary forms -- it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute the truly religious attitude; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a deeply religious man.

— "The World As I See It [Mein Weltbild]" [tr. Harris (1934)]

The most beautiful and deepest experience a man can have is the sense of the mysterious. It is the underlying principle of religion as well as all serious endeavor in art and science. He who never had this experience seems to me, if not dead, then at least blind. To sense that behind anything that can be experienced there is a something that our mind cannot grasp and whose beauty and sublimity reaches us only indirectly and as a feeble reflection, this is religiousness. In this sense I am religious.

[Das Schönste und Tiefste, was der Mensch erleben kann, ist das Gefühl des Geheimnisvollen. Es liegt der Religion sowie allem tieferen Streben in Kunst und Wissenschaft zugrunde. Wer dies nicht erlebt hat, erscheint mir, wenn nicht wie ein Toter, so doch wie ein Blinder. Zu empfinden, dass hinter dem Erlebbaren ein für unseren Geist Unerreichbares verborgen sei, dessen Schönheit und Erhabenheit uns nur mittelbar und in schwachem Widerschein erreicht, das ist Religiosität. In diesem Sinne bin ich religiös.]

— Variant in "My Credo [Mein Glaubensbekenntnis]" (Aug 1932)

Ah, fill the Cup: -- what boots it to repeat
How Time is slipping underneath our Feet:
Unborn To-morrow and dead Yesterday,
Why fret about them if To-day be sweet!
[tr. FitzGerald, 1st ed. (1859), # 37]

Yesterday This Day's Madness did prepare;
To-morrow's Silence, Triumph, or Despair:
Drink! for you know not whence you came, nor why:
Drink! for you know not why you go, nor where.
[tr. FitzGerald, 2nd ed. (1868), # 80]

Be on your guard, my friend, for you will be sundered from your soul, you will pass behind the curtain of the secrets of heaven. Drink wine, for you know not whence you come. Be merry, for you know not where you go.
[tr. McCarthy (1879), # 180]

O soul, so soon to leave this coil below,
And pass the dread mysterious curtain through,
Be of good cheer, and joy you while you may,
You wot not whence you come, nor whither go.
[tr. Whinfield (1882), # 40]

Make haste! soon must you quit this life below,
And pass the veil, and Allah's secrets know;
Make haste to take your pleasure while you may,
You wot not whence you come, nor whither go.
[tr. Whinfield (1883), # 48 or 87]

Ah Brother, but a little while, and Thou shalt find
Thy Lasting Home the 'Secret Veil' behind; --
Rejoice Thy Heart and banish Grief, for know, --
Thy source, Thy Goal, has never been defined.
[tr. Garner (1887), 7.8]

Ah, brother, but a little while and thou shalt find
Eternal rest, the secret veil behind;
Rejoice thy heart and banish grief, for know --
Thy source, thy goal, has never been divined.
[tr. Garner (1898), # 148]

'Tis a strange world we came to, You and I,
Whence no man knows, and surely none knows why,
Why we remain -- a harder question still,
And still another -- whither when we die?
[tr. Le Gallienne (1897)]

Bethink thee that soulless and bare thou shalt go;
The veil of God's mysteries to tear thou shalt go:
Drink wine, for thou knowest not whence thou hast come;
Live blithe, for thou knowest not where thou shalt go.
[tr. Payne (1898), # 188]

Know this --- that from thy soul thou shalt be separated,
thou shalt pass behind the curtain of the secrets of God.
Be happy -- thou knowest not whence thou hast come:
drink wine - thou knowest not whither thou shalt go.
[tr. Heron-Allen (1898), # 26]

Thou shalt be parted from thy soul, and then,
Enter God's veil of mystery again;
Be glad! For whence you came you do not know;
Drink! For you wist as little where you go.
[tr. Cadell (1899), # 26]

Soon shall you bid farewell to mortal tie;
Soon shall you read life's deepest mystery.
Drink, for you know not when you go, nor where;
Drink, for you know not whence you came, nor why.
[tr. Roe (1906), # 35]

Since from your soul you separate, then know
Behind God's secret veil you will go, too;
Drink wine! for you know not whence you have come;
Be jocund! for you know not where you go!
[tr. Thompson (1906), # 136]

Know this, that soon thou diest, and thy soul
The Book of God's Great Secret must unroll;
Be happy! knowing not whence thou hast come,
Nor whither thou shalt go. Drink out the Bowl!
[tr. Talbot (1908), # 26]

Know that thou shalt depart, deprived of thy soul; thou
shalt go behind the veil of the mystery of annihilation.
Drink wine: thou knowest not whence thou art come.
Be merry! thou knowest not whither thou shalt go.
[tr. Christensen (1927), # 15]

Ye go from soul asunder this ye know,
And that ye creep, behind His curtain low;
Hence sing His Name, ye know not whence ye came,
And live sedate, ye know not where to go.
[tr. Tirtha (1941), 9.99]

What, without asking, hither hurried whence?
And, without asking, whither hurried hence!
Another and another cup to drown
The Memory of this impertinence.
[tr. Graves & Ali-Shah (1967)]

What? Hath God delivered into our handes the keyes, and the strongest wardes of his infinite puissance? Hath hee obliged him-selfe not to exceede the boundes of our knowledge?
[tr. Florio (1603)]

What! has God given us knowledge of the keys and the uttermost extent of his power? has he bound himself not to go beyond the limits of our understanding?
[tr. Ives (1925)]

What! has God put into our hands the keys and most secret springs of His power? Has He bound Himself not to trespass beyond the limits of our knowledge?
[tr. Zeitlin (1934)]

What! Has God placed in our hands the keys and ultimate springs of his power? Has he pledged himself not to overstep the bounds of our knowledge?
[tr. Frame (1943)]

What! Has God placed in our hands the keys to the ultimate principles of his power? Did he bind himself not to venture beyond the limits of human knowledge?
[tr. Screech (1987)]