Short Poems

I tried, and each attempt was a fiasco.
I yearned, but every love of mine was wrong.
I needed, and the shame was overwhelming.
I failed, and so I hated being young.

You, who was born for poetry's creation,
Do not repeat the sayings of the ancients.
Though, maybe, our Poetry, itself,
Is just a single beautiful citation.

You tell me this is God?
I tell you this is a printed list,
A burning candle, and an ass.

You stay away, my angry love,
and here I sink from senses dear;
My tears flow and wash all kajal from my eyes dear

You say you are holy,
And that
Because I have not seen you sin.
Aye, but there are those
Who see you sin, my friend.

You personify God's message.
You reflect the King's face.
There is nothing in the universe that you are not
Everything you want, look for it within yourself-
you are that.

You know only dreams
We know the danger of dreams

[Translated by Nukhbah Langah and Lavinia Greenlaw]

You gave sugar to sugarcane,
And honey to the honey bee
You gave grapes to
The winding vine:
You gave the deer stag
The forest green:
Such are your godly gifts!

You gave me words of hope, are they not long delayed?
The plum-tree is remembered by the Spring,
Though it seemed dead with frost.

You fit into me
like a hook into an eye

a fish hook
an open eye