Book in this poetic form
This page shows only poems in the Ghazal form.
Happy the moment when with compassion you scratch the head of lovers, happy the moment when from autumn arises the wind of spring.
When I reached your city you withdrew into a corner from me; when I left your city you did not give me a good-bye glance.
Tidings are newly arrived—do you perhaps have no news of it? The envious heart has turned to blood; perhaps you have no heart.
Ho, watchman of the dwelling, what sort of watchman are you? For the night-thief secretly carries off all our baggage.
O idol, you are so subtle that you enter into our soul; O idol, by the right of your grace, pray enter amongst us.
You have the attribute of God; when you enter any breast, you display from that breast the glow of Mount Sinai.
My idol scolds, saying, “Why have you fallen in the middle of the road?” Idol, why should I not fall from such a wine as you have given me?
Since it has become certain to my heart that you are the soul of the soul of the soul, open the door of grace, for you are the stay of a hundred worlds.
Go, love, for you have become the most perfect of the lovely ones; you have smitten the necks of penitence and the penitent.