A poet is a man condemned to exile
Because within his heart there is no guile;
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Being in mid-ocean it’s no good bleating like a ruddy goat;
After all, no one made you get on the ruddy boat.
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How easy was wayfaring with the crackling fire mocking
The rising wind outside, and glinting on a silk stocking.
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Seeing us downcast the Master said, Twelve years of depression isn’t much of a price to pay
For the glance of my mood that will reveal to you the beginning of the way.
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How simple was this matter of love in the beginning—
Glad night, sweet sleep and awaking to the magpies’ singing.
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Who can gauge the mind of God, or sound the depths of love?
Yet the existence of God and love some seek to disprove.
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A scientist is an immigrant from outer space
Fondly thinking to tear the veil from love’s beloved face.
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Since it is the Beloved’s breath which sustains the creation,
No man yet has uttered a love-speech without his permission.
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Drunk again! cried the hag Respectability.
Madam, I replied with old-world civility,
Click here to read the full ghazal #22 and commentary.