The Lord protect us from the false saints of God, all those who slit
Hungry men’s penny-purses while mumbling verses in Latin or Sanskrit.
Click here to read the full ghazal #109 and commentary.
Whenever our Master speaks to us millions of flags are unfurled
In hearts and on hills and mountains all over the world.
Click here to read the full ghazal #110 and commentary.
I have not yet met one who had not grief engraved on his face,
And everyone I’ve met longed for the divine Beloved’s embrace.
Click here to read the full ghazal #111 and commentary.
I had never reckoned on the Beloved’s infinite courtesies
Which mow down the grass of his lovers to make them into tall trees.
Click here to read the full ghazal #112 and commentary.
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,
Click here to read the full ghazal #113 and commentary.
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.
Click here to read the full ghazal #116 and commentary.
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.