Book in this poetic form
This page shows only poems in the Qit‘a form.
Our world, merely a fleeting notion —
Being so distant, heaven-circling sun, what manner to my vision dost thou come?
Carve your own path with your axe's strike —
The wandering heart finds no solace at home —
Come, behold nature's grandeur with keen eyes —
Within the realm of water and clay, I've chosen retreat —
No soul knows whence the Khudi first came —
Heart, in the rosebud view Life’s mystery! Truth in contingent there unveiled is shewn;
Allah's light spreads through gardens and the desert's expanse —
From the soil of the narcissus field, a bud arose —
The world, that findeth in itself no stay, sought in the street of yearning for a way:
Think not I grieve to die: The riddle of body and soul I have read plain.
The Rose and I one problem have to tell —
The self-sown tulip’s temper I know well —
The world is a symphony of aspirations and desires —
My heart, restless with longing's fervent plea —
Our endurance springs from an unending blaze —
O preacher, don't frown upon the Brahmin's quest —
Though philosophers have shattered countless forms they've sought —
From my handful of clay, many worlds arise —
For thousands of years, with nature I did dwell —
I spread my wings across eternity's vast expanse —
Inside me is such a play of ideas, what does this mean? —
I take pride in myself, a beggar without need —
If you know the power within your core —
Why worry, life's breath is not the heart's sole lease —
Heart, while thou sittest in the breast of me; better my rug, than sovereign dignity:
From me, tell the Sufis pure of heart —
Like the narcissus, do not pass the garden without gaze —
An idol I carved in my own form’s grace —
Thus spoke the new-sprung blossom to the dew: —
Consider the earth as the sky's confidant—
The secret of creation, none but you can claim —
The earth is but the dust of our tavern's door —
Alexander and his flag and sword are gone —
You stole my heart from its open chest —
From before me, the world of color and scent did flee —
I do not know the instrument or key —
In the great throng so rapturous I did play, I struck the spark of Life out of their clay;
Ajam by my melodies grew young anew —
My song ignites a fire in Ajam’s heart —
From my restless soul, I’ve unleashed a blaze —
I've been made to roam like the morning breeze —
Mind turns coarse cloth to golden thread —
From the bough of desire, I've plucked the fruit —
My imagination, which gathers flowers from paradise —
Persia is a sea with no visible shore —
Say not the world's affairs are weak and frail —
You flee from the Western masters in dismay —
How long will you wear the tattered robe of life —
