Thursday, November 28, 2013

(Javed Nama-10) Nawa-e-Sarosh (Naghma-e-Sarosh)

I fear that you are steering the barque into a mirage;
born within a veil, you will die within a veil.
When I washed the collyrium of Razi from my eyes
I saw the destinies of nations hidden in the Book.
Twist over field and avenue, twist over mountain and desert—
the lightning that twists upon itself dies within the cloud.
I dwelt a while with the Westerners, sought much and saw scarcely
the man whose musical modes turn not upon number.
Without the anguish of battle that propinquity is not attainable;
you who speak of ‘scent in rose-water, ‘, go, ravish the rose-bush!
Superficial ascetic, I concede that selfhood is transient,
but you do not see the whirlpool within the bubble.
This delightful music comes not from the minstrel’s plucking,
a houri exiled from Paradise is weeping within the lute.


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