Tilok Chand Mehroom from The Portrait of Mercy:
"To honour you is to honour all existence Guru Nanak
Your luminosity illuminates every particle Guru Nanak
Your estate endows the intoxication of enlightenment Guru Nanak
Your writings are the summit of worshipping truth Guru Nanak
Divine mercy streams down from your portrait Guru Nanak
Is it your portrait or is it a replica of kindness
Is it your portrait or is it an imprint of reality
Is it your portrait or is it an evidence of nobility
Is it your portrait or is it comfort for a troubled heart
Divine mercy streams down from your portrait Guru Nanak"
There is some kiss we want
with our whole lives,
the touch of Spirit on the body.
Seawater begs the pearl
to break its shell.
And the lily, how passionately
it needs some wild Darling!
At night, I open the window
and ask the moon to come
and press its face against mine.
Breathe into me.
Close the language-door,
and open the love-window.
The moon won't use the door,
only the window.
Go sweep out the chamber of your heart.
Make it ready to be the dwelling place of the Beloved.
When you depart out, He will enter it.
In you, void of yourself, will He display His beauties.
No More Leaving
Become like this:
Next time you meet Him in the forest
Or on a crowded city street
There won't be anymore
God will climb into
You will simply just take
From: 'The Gift'
Translated by Daniel Ladinsky
Spring and all its flowers
(1320 - 1389)
Spring and all its flowers
now joyously break their vow of silence.
It is time for celebration, not for lying low;
You too -- weed out those roots of sadness from your heart.
The Sabaa wind arrives;
and in deep resonance, the flower
passionately rips open its garments,
thrusting itself from itself.
The Way of Truth, learn from the clarity of water,
Learn freedom from the spreading grass.
Pay close attention to the artistry of the Sabaa wind,
that wafts in pollen from afar,
And ripples the beautiful tresses
of the fields of hyacinth flowers.
From the privacy of the harem, the virgin bud slips out,
revealing herself under the morning star,
branding your heart and your faith
And frenzied bulbul flies madly out of the House of Sadness
to unite with the flowers;
its love-crazed cry like a thousand-trumpet blast.
Hafez says, and the experienced old ones concur:
All you really need
is to tell those Stories
of the Fair Ones and the Goblet of Wine.
We carry inside us
The wonder we seek
Friend, our closeness is this: anywhere you put your foot,
feel me in the firmness under you.
Lifting up the curtain, I have seen.
Kabir says: “Listen, my friend! there is no other satisfaction,
save in the encounter with the Beloved.”
"What you seek is seeking you."
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