Sometimes I wonder how it was that I wandered into this street
Where each grain of dust is a bell that chimes under the Master’s feet,
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I leave those to desire union who have taken leave of their senses—
The flame of their love is still smothered by the smoke of recompenses.
Click here to read the full ghazal #114 and commentary.
When one’s Beloved is truly so, there is no need
To grovel and whine, to importune and plead.
Click here to read the full ghazal #115 and commentary.
There was brave singing in the street last night for the vintner declared
An end to grief’s winter and many springtime secrets with us shared.
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One can muddle along with a sort of catch-as-catch-can,
But to win to dust one must be a very warrior man.
Click here to read the full ghazal #117 and commentary.
It is cold under a rag blanket in the early hours—
Yet no eiderdown was ever embroidered with such flowers.
Click here to read the full ghazal #118 and commentary.
Though your Joseph has gone away and your cheeks with hot tears burn,
Do not neglect your mirror—for one day he will return.
Click here to read the full ghazal #119 and commentary.
Long before the morning stars sang together I started my journey.
A million times have I been born, yet never was I born free.
Click here to read the full ghazal #120 and commentary.
Since we slew that lecherous old man Hope one nostril
Breathes clearly, we have freed one wing of spirit’s kestrel.
Click here to read the full ghazal #121 and commentary.