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 tired hymn.
We must mumble to find a phrase that doesn’t 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!
