Ghazals I

Ghazals I

Ghazal: This much we know: the lover passed away

This much we know: the lover passed away;
and beyond that, God knows what came to be.

This too was a mark of grace, if he stayed apart:
what joy was there not in the labour of the search?

I, and the lane of love? Mine, such fortune?
The longing for self-loss became my guide, like Khizr.

Now he does not know a foe from a friend:
from what a prison the captive of love has been set free!

It deserves forgiveness if, in his distress,
the longing to pray became the crime of a reaching hand.

What desires of the heart did he not fulfil?
Yet what pleased him was a heart without desire.

Ask no one where he is; keep going:
in some lane there must be a tumult raised.

The thought of rose-faced ones turned my breast into a garden:
now it became Medina, now Karbala.

The longing for the Friend's good pleasure that was coiled in his head
made Aasi a disciple in the line of Murtaza. [TN: Ali, called al-Murtaza, "the one approved"; the Sufi orders trace their chain of masters back to him.]

Ghazal: They were his manifestations, but it was not union with the Friend

They were his manifestations, but it was not union with the Friend;
when was I not restless for his sake?

Was there no other charmer in the world?
Unlike you, I had no power over my heart.

The tulips and roses were the footprints of his glory as it walked;
spring was nothing other than this.

What cry of the heart was that in the cage, O fowler,
that did not, like an arrow, hunt down the sky?

It is false; on whom could the sentence of Hell have fallen,
since no one was a greater sinner than I?

Do not ask how lost we were last night in the wine gathering:
no one was sober except the glance of my love.

Open the grave and look: now there is not even a shroud;
there was no garment that was not borrowed.

You were lost in rose and garden, Aasi;
the beauty of your love was not in your sight.

Ghazal: Not even at the hour of departure the longing for one glimpse of him

Not even at the hour of departure the longing for one glimpse of him:
if there is no love, cruel one, is there no kindness either?

Where in his lane is the struggle of fear and hope?
There is no fear of Hell, nor desire for Paradise.

Do not condemn the taste for drunkenness so much, shaikh;
have you not even the intoxication of the wine of love?

I would bear your indifference as I bear your coquetry;
if I have lost that strength, have I lost my courage too?

How can one say that he showed himself to me?
This is not the garden of Paradise, nor the Day of Resurrection.

Abstinence and piety and the mending of good deeds:
there is none of this in me; but is there no mercy in you either?

Draw him to you, O lord heart, with perfect attraction;
what sort of dervish are you, with no miracle at all?

I have never seen you in Aasi's embrace:
has the longing of the heart of lovers no effect either?

Ghazal: O madness, the same misfortune has come upon my head again

O madness, the same misfortune has come upon my head again:
again my heart is caught in tresses, again the same calamity.

Even after death the pull of Qais's heart had such power
that Laila came to his grave, throwing dust upon her head.

The mosques of the city are empty, O elder of the Magi;
into the tavern whole congregations have come. [TN: the *pir-e-mughan*, the tavern-keeper of Persian poetry, here also the Sufi master.]

She is at the window; on this side, a crowd of gazers:
today, they say, the Resurrection has come to this lane.

Never did we live to our heart's content in our homeland, Aasi;
from the day of our birth, exile was in our fate.

Ghazal: Give me a heart that can bear the sight of you

Give me a heart that can bear the sight of you;
give me one fit to show its face at the Resurrection.

For the support of the weak this too is enough:
give us the skirt of kindness, the dust behind the litter.

Let me come in my longing and pass away like a wave;
give me but one kiss, O lip of the shore.

Ah, the delight of your untying of knots!
Give me a hard knot such as only you can open.

The spring of Paradise is a temptation at the Resurrection;
give me a heart that wants nothing but you.

Since pain has no place but the heart,
in place of every limb give me a body that is all heart.

Ghazal: I want a guide to your lane

I want a guide to your lane,
but I want my rival's footprints.

I want as much cruelty from you as can be,
for I want a test of faithfulness.

I want from God your wanting me;
see what my wanting wants!

Where is the colour of oneness, where the taste of union?
I want myself apart from you.

The bounds of my love and my loving stayed level;
I love someone without bounds.

Where is the lightning of your blazing manifestation?
For I want the means of passing away.

When he has lost me from his own being,
then he says, "Now I want to meet."

What use is my rival's advice in the madness of love?
Do I wish anyone ill?

Look at my nature's love of difficulty:
I want the beautiful to give up faithfulness.

If I wanted a heart, what did I want, in the end?
For I want a heart without desire.

This delight of longing, this taste of wishing:
on the night of union I want shyness from her.

What else can I say to you but this, Aasi:
you are a dervish; I want your prayers.

Ghazal: No greed for wealth, nor for honour and rank

No greed for wealth, nor for honour and rank;
my only wish is for a knowing heart.

How much he liked the pain of my heart!
When I sighed "Ah", he said "Bravo".

Joseph was drawn from Canaan to Egypt:
ask the prophet about the power of the well. [TN: a pun: *chah*, "well", and *chah*, "love"; Joseph was thrown into a well by his brothers.]

The path is his, and the goal is his,
who has made his way to that one's heart.

Preachers, why scold us for gazing at idols?
Have you heard of "There is the Face of God"? [TN: Quran 2:115, "Wherever you turn, there is the Face of God."]

In the niche of the House of God I remembered
the arch of the brows of that idol my heart desires.

If you seek the path of Truth, Aasi,
become the dust on the road of a man who knows the Truth.

Ghazal: The way of that gait is the way of a sword

The way of that gait is the way of a sword;
it is death for sinful lovers.

"May my heart never cling to rose and garden":
this is the cry of the captive bird.

"O God, may this cage be the envy of the garden":
this is the cry of the captive bird.

"Not even the morning breeze brought the scent of the rose":
this is the cry of the captive bird.

"May she come unveiled to meet me at my last breath":
this is the prayer of the sick lover.

Why should there not be prostrations before the prayer niche?
It has the shape of that curving brow.

Walk with a gait that does not raise the Resurrection;
that is the way of the cruel sky.

What have I to do with the tumult of the Last Day?
My only wish is the sight of you.

In seeking the way of God, however,
I follow Haidar the Charger. [TN: Ali, called Haidar, "the lion", and Karrar, "the one who charges again and again".]

Ghazal: We cannot show the wound in our heart

We cannot show the wound in our heart;
we cannot wound anyone's heart.

She who cannot come this far,
can she not call me there either?

And if there is a promise, it is for the Resurrection,
which we cannot put to the test.

I too am a sea of tears, as it were,
yet I cannot put out the fire of my heart.

Hope of union with her? Heaven forbid!
She cannot even show her face.

Why should she hesitate to lift her veil,
since we cannot come to our senses?

We would pray for death, but
we cannot lift our hands from our heart.

She claims to be a Joseph, Aasi,
who cannot even come in a dream!