We are crying to our Lord and Master without peer

We are crying to our lord and master without peer:
all but his long curly hair is small and cheap beer.

We have lit a candle to his blazing presence,
and written many a ghazal about his essence.

We can’t help but sob a big puddle yet again:
whatever we have to say ruins paper and pen!

We have nothing at all to say that can exalt him;
our best praise bumps along like a bloody hymn.

We mumble to find a phrase that doesn’t quite snarl;
it turns out our loving is nothing but a quarrel!

We would shut up and forget all about such love-
if we didn’t think someone else deserved a shove!

To be sure, Darvish is inspired by two buck chuck;
but we have to say, all but the beloved bloody sucks!

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