In the early morning hours
Love into my heart did pierce

I pressed my heart hard
Dewdrops moistened my love-beard

Rose is pre-possessed by Nightingale
Of what use is the silly spade’s feel?

Wine belongs to the Cup, isn’t-
Bystanders are of no merit

‘When did I even have the right-
To claim to be Your Beloved’s lover

YOU are His Lover
He, YOUR beloved

Not a word before
Nor later, can any other afford

What greatness does the dust have
To claim the love of the Sun in sky?

Even as millions proclaim to be his lovers
They realize not the folly of their words

Here O Lord! Hear O Lord!
Bear with my insane-hoard

I’m no saint of any sage-kind
I’m pale with no pious-paint

I have earned no years of worship
My wages nothing but service of lip

Here O Lord. Hear O Lord!
For the sake of whom is said my word

I begin my month and year
In the name of your Meem Dear

Embrace me, curse not
Grant me, withhold not

With these words of a wild goose
My Love-lunacy for him I let loose

sallallahu alaihi wa sallam

Dec 01 2014

(Photo : Jaihoon at Humayun’s Tomb, Nizamuddeen, Delhi)