Book in this poetic form
This page shows only poems in the Qit‘a form.
Why inquire the tie 'tween spirit and body's lair? —
A sage imparted, wisdom deep and profound —
Why seek Razi for the Quran's essence, you ask? —
Of my own being or not, I choose to hush —
Tell the poet of vibrant verse from me —
I am indifferent to your notions of right and wrong —
O Sheikh of the sanctuary! You may not know —
The water-drop, when it is self-illumed, Amidst a hundred as one pearl shall be:
Ye men of learning, I am in a maze, the mind this meaning cannot understand:
Forego the shore’s banquet, where life’s song is tender —
I am a hidden truth from head to toe, unseen —
Speak not about the Purpose of this life: Thou hast not sight to see its blandishments.
When you gazed upon a mere fragment of stone —
Unfamiliar with loyalty, alien in its ways —
Ask not of love or its enchanting guise —
Do not despair, O newly bloomed bud so dear —
One day a withered rose thus spoke to me: ‘Our manifesting is a spark swift blown.’
Our infinite world – of old Time’s ocean swallows it up (like fish).
I'm a companion to the birds in the garden's grace —
Does this valley of flowers appear as it truly is? —
You're the sun, and I your planet, circling in light —
His image in the eyes, oh, what a splendid sight —
A girdled infidel, my brain adores idols it crafts —
The cypress, a free-willed slave to the Divine —
From one star to another, hundreds of worlds unfold —
Do not bind your own steps with destiny's chain —
My heart to its own spell is prisoner; the world is lightened by its radiance fair.
In the instrument of my soul, the melody is from Your touch —
Our restless breath is a wave from His endless sea —
In Your heart, a solitary pain did twist and twine —
Whom do you seek, why twist and turn in quest —
Leave childishness, and learn a better lore; abandon race, if thee a Muslim bore.
Neither Afghan, Turk, nor Tatar are we —
There is a world concealed within my breast, heart in my dust, by passion’s grief possest.
My heart, my heart, oh heart of mine —
What maketh Foul and Fair, how shall I say? Tongue trembleth, such a riddle to declare:
One devoid of hidden yearnings (for his Lord) owns but a shell —
O ask not what I am, or whence came I: ’Tis self-involvement I am living by:
Beneath the veil, in all Your majestic splendor —
Forget the goal, be steadfast on the endless quest —
Come, O love, O the secret of our heart —
Poetry summons pain and sorrow, yet the ache is sweet —
I ride not on a steed of noble breed —
If you desire life's perfection, listen well —
‘A child of earth is Adam’, thou dost say. ‘Bond to the world of being and decay’;
To the valiant heart, a lion stands as mild as a goat —
Am I the wine, or am I the cup that holds? —
You say our bird (soul) is beneath a bodily snare confined —
How kindles desire in the chambers of our hearts? —
When I was dead, and walked in Paradise, this heaven I could clearly see;
