My friend, Roethke, is never far away.
In my patched coat here
I have his poem
Which stabs me repeatedly.
The cold clear blue of Saginaw
Spills out my pocket
The scent of a widening rose.
What we love lies close at hand.
My friend, Roethke, is never far away.
In my patched coat here
I have his poem
Which stabs me repeatedly.
The cold clear blue of Saginaw
Spills out my pocket
The scent of a widening rose.
What we love lies close at hand.
if the dust from my beloved’s feet were to assist me,
it would write the letters of suffering before my eyes.
if his command were to reach me in search of truth,
at once, like the candle, in a breath, i would expire.
although the friend does not transmute the heart,
i swear i count out good coin in his path.
don’t brush my dust off your coat- even
the wind won’t carry my anguish out the door.
i am drowned by desire of your side yet hope
the wave of my tears will carry me to your arms.
today, don’t turn from my promise but think
of that night in sorrow when i held my hands high in praise.
your long black hair is the comfort of lovers-
it gives such security, but it takes away all my peace!
o wind, bring me a scent from that cup of wine!
that scent holds the cure for my aching head.
hafez, his red lips are for me dear life itself-
may they be mine that moment when i expire!
sing, dervish, your exalted stutter!
sing your halting notes to the wind.
or mutter your song to find its way
where it will.
but bring the thought
out the mouth. so what
if the sound is mute and
the meaning dull.
a brick
has more lustre than
diamond
when set with His Name!
Rain, wash my face
Wash my tears
Remove the grit, the grime
Hail, knock my head
Knock my mind
Split my thought to Nothing
Light, caress my heart
Caress the Silence
Be my all.
the light grows
my hands to open
and reach toward the sun.
tendrils of sap
warm and applaud
the Awakener.
a tremor of love
shouts in green
You have come!
the curve of my thought
© 2010-2026 darvish khan writes All Rights Reserved -- Copyright notice by BLOGFORM