I am reading Desire Path: Sequoia by Donika Kelly today in Poetry magazine (see below for the poem) and meditating upon the theme of the impermanence of faces.
We, as humans, are minuscule and transient. Faces that will disappear like clouds. We see them today everywhere, and tomorrow there are no where to be seen. Perhaps some will appear, like Ghalib says in his Ghazal Sab Kahaan, through beautiful flowers.
Sab kahaan kuchhh lalaa-o-gul mein numaaya ho gayeen
Khaak main kyaa suratein hongi ki pinhaa ho gayeen
Where are they all, a few manifest in beautiful flowers
What spectacular faces must have beem that the ground now hides
Our impermanence can swiftly transform our existence, making us vulnerable like something inflammable. Like Baba Farid says, don't touch the safflower, O love, it will burn. It is vulnerable and flammable.
Hath na laayi kasumbharai, jal jaasi dhola
Everything that currently possesses a distinct identity, even objects with faces, will eventually lose their individuality and merge with the vastness of the universe. Time will gradually deposit layers upon them, turning them into sediment, blending them into the fabric of eternity. This reminds me of Shams Mashraqi's Persian poem Har Lehza where he talks about find the trickster love in every face:
Har lehza ba shakl aan but-e-ayyar baraamad
Dil burd-o-nihaan shud
Har dum ba libaas-e-digar aan yaar baraamad
Gah peer-o-jawaan shud
O' that trickster idol-beloved! Every time he made an appearance, he had a different face
He pulled the people's hearts, And hid from view.
Every time he came out in a different garb
He was sometimes young, And sometimes he was old.
The future remains unknown, and perhaps we need to express gratitude for this lack of foresight. Or the gratitude for the foresight to see the one in all, and thereby not needing to know that everything is impermanent.
Desire Path: Sequoia
The poem is titled "Desire Path: Sequoia" to evoke the sense of longing and the connection between human desires and the majestic Sequoia tree. The term "Desire Path" suggests an unconventional route or an intuitive path created by human yearning. In this context, it represents the speaker's deep connection with nature and their vulnerability, symbolized by the Sequoia.
Desire Path: Sequoia
By Donika Kelly
Today I see the faces in everything:
the trees across the street, the clouds
in Ansel Adams’s The Golden Gate
Before the Bridge, San Francisco,
California. In the picture, I’m not hugging
the sequoia; I’m showing the woman
behind the camera I am small, young,
that I’ve always been vulnerable
to fire, and I am smiling to know this.
I am holding my arms perpendicular
to the plane of my body, which is parallel
to the plane of the tree, the tree
between my arms, outstretched,
and in so doing I am saying to the woman
behind the camera: You too are small, young,
you have always been vulnerable to fire.
In taking the picture, she says: I agree.
You are small. The picture is on a screen
in a hotel room. The woman behind the camera
a figment of memory, her face smudged,
imprecise. There is pleasure in planes
gone to silt, in time (as with water, as with wind)
doing its sedimentary work. Pleasure
in what’s past—the feeling of the tree’s
rough bark, its trunk as whole
between my arms as the Golden Gate,
through either peninsula, running
into ocean under only one horizon—
pleasure in not knowing (fire, steel,
grief) what’s yet to come.
Sab kahan kuchh lala-o-gul mein numayaan ho gayin Khaak mein kya suraten hongi ki pinhaan ho gayin
Where are they? Some have manifested in roses and tulips!
O what faces must be in dust that have disappeared?
In the realm of Mirza Ghalib's poetry, this couplet stands as an enigmatic masterpiece in my view. It is a window into the timeless questions that have haunted literature's most profound minds. It embodies the interplay of life and death, beauty and decay, and the ever-elusive quest to uncover the hidden facets of our existence.
As we read this, we embark on a journey with Mirza Ghalib through a beautiful garden with roses and tulips we encounter a profound question: "Sab Kahaan" or "Where are all?" The poet's inquiry echoes the echoes of literary giants who have pondered the same mysteries. This reminds me of Kabir's "Kahaan gaye" - "where have they gone?" Reminiscent of Whitman's poignant musings on the multitudes, Ghalib's verse beckons us to contemplate the invisible threads that connect humanity.
Within this poetic tapestry, Ghalib intertwines nature's vibrant hues with the fleeting presence of souls. He unravels the essence of existence, revealing how some unveil themselves amidst the blossoms of tulips and roses. In this interplay of life's transience and nature's fleeting beauty, echoes of Rumi's metaphysical exploration resonate, as he too sought to decipher the hidden truths embedded in the tangible world.
But the poet's introspection does not cease there. Ghalib delves into the profound enigma of the second line: "In the dust, what faces there will be that have become hidden?" Here, he poses an existential puzzle that evokes the poetic introspection of Emily Dickinson. Like Dickinson's fascination with the enigmatic depths of the human soul, Ghalib ponders the faces concealed within the dust, contemplating the myriad possibilities of hidden identities and untold stories.
Ghalib's verse transcends mere words, inviting us to embrace the beauty that surrounds us, even within the ephemeral nature of life's fragile tapestry.
yaad thi hamko bhi ranga rang bazm-aaraaiyan lekin ab naqsh-o-nigaar-e-taaq-e-nisiyaan ho gayin.
I too used to remember those colorful gathering adornings and arrangements. But now they have become a mark or portrait in the niche of oblivion.
The poet says that he once too reveled, in the corridors of his mind in the remembrance of those vivid gatherings, adorned with resplendent embellishments and meticulous arrangements. Mirza Ghalib was after all the Mughal poet laureate. However, like delicate brushstrokes upon a canvas, those memories have now evolved into ethereal portraits, nestled within the niche of oblivion. The effervescence that once animated those days has now dissipated, leaving behind a mere echo of their former glory. These memories, like distant paintings, now find their residence within the hallowed confines of oblivion.
The poet's bear resemblance to the fleeting imagery conjured by Proust's madeleine, each stroke of color a portal to a bygone era, where time held no sway. Some evocative recollections symbolize the bittersweet ebb and flow of life's tapestry, mirroring the poignant sentiments echoed in the works of Marcel Proust, who delved deep into the realm of memory and the impermanence of time. Mirza Ghalib fills his cup of melancholy, honors these faded treasures that grace the niche of oblivion and accepts that they are now gone.
thi banaat-un-naash-e-garduun din ko parde men nihaan shab ko un ke ji men kya aai ki uryaan ho gayin
The Ursa Minor constellation was hidden in a veil during the day. In the night, I don't know what came in its heart that it became bare.
qaid mein yaqub ne li go na yusuf ki khabar lekin ankhen rauzan-e-diivaar-e-zindaan ho gayin
In the prison, Jacob (yaqub) although has taken no information about Joseph (yusuf). But eyes have become windows in the wall of the prison.
In the annals of the Old Testament, two prominent figures emerge: Joseph and Jacob. Joseph, the son of Jacob, found himself unjustly confined within the Pharaoh's prison. Amidst this troubling chapter in his life, the poet reflects upon Jacob's plight, revealing a poignant truth. Though bereft of any news or knowledge regarding his incarcerated son, Jacob's eyes became a profound portal within the prison's walls. They stood as a steadfast window, vigilantly watching over Joseph, a symbol of a father's unwavering love.
Despite the absence of tangible information about his son, Jacob's tearful eyes remained fixated, casting their gaze upon his beloved son. Through this unyielding connection, his eyes became an intimate aperture, akin to a tender crack in the prison's unyielding facade. Night and day, they served as a conduit, allowing Jacob to keep an unrelenting watch over his son's well-being. Such is the boundless depth of a father's affection for his children, transcending physical barriers and imprisonment.
The poet captures the essence of paternal love, highlighting the indomitable power of love to traverse even the most formidable confines. Through Jacob's tearful vigilance, we witness the resolute strength that emanates from a parent's heart, one that creates a window in the prison walls.
sab raqibon se hon nakhush, par zanan-e-misr se hai zulaikha khush ke mahv-e-mah-e-kanan ho gain
Unhappy with all the rivals, but with the women of Egypt Zulaikha is happy because they have become transfixed in the moon of Canaan.
In the realms of ancient Egypt, a tale unfolds involving the captivating figure of Zulaikha, a queen enraptured by the love she held for Joseph. As word of her affection spread throughout the land, the women of Egypt began to taunt her, provoking a response unexpected. For typically, lovers harbor discontent toward rivals who vie for the affections of their beloved. Yet, Zulaikha's heart remained unperturbed by the presence of these rivals, finding solace in a peculiar outcome.
Indeed, she discovered a sense of contentment, for as these women beheld the radiant figure of Joseph, often referred to as the "moon of Canaan," their attention became transfixed upon his resplendent charm. Enraptured by his beauty, they became absorbed, momentarily forgetting their spiteful mockery. Herein lies the crux of a story narrated in the Qur'an, which sheds further light upon the matter.
In this ancient tale, Zulaikha distributed apples to each of these women, urging them to cut the fruit upon Joseph's arrival. As destiny would have it, their gazes fell upon him, and in their distraction, they accidentally wounded their own fingers while slicing the fruit. Seizing the moment, Zulaikha reminded them that Joseph graced their presence daily, thus reminding them of the pain they had inadvertently inflicted upon themselves. In this realization, fueled by both physical and emotional discomfort, the women ceased their mockery.
Through this story, the poet unravels a profound truth. Zulaikha's benevolent intent, manifested through the distribution of apples, revealed a wisdom that surpassed the petty taunts and jeers. Instead of harboring resentment, she employed a gentle tactic, one that allowed the natural allure of Joseph to captivate and transform those who had once mocked her. In their mesmerized state, the women found a new perspective, fostering an end to their mockery.
This tale stands as a testament to the power of empathy and understanding, illuminating Zulaikha's remarkable ability to rise above adversity and transform the hearts of her rivals. It portrays a profound lesson on the potential for love to conquer animosity, demonstrating the capacity for personal growth and enlightenment through compassion and self-reflection.
ju-e-khun ankhon se bahane do ki hai shaam-e-firaq main ye samajhunga ke shamaen do farozan ho gayin
In this eve of parting, let the river of blood flow from my eyes. I shall perceive them as two radiant candles.
The poet, immersed in the depths of longing and separation, utters a poignant plea, beckoning the river of blood to flow from their eyes. This moment, veiled by the twilight of their parting, becomes a canvas for profound emotion. Amidst this profound anguish, a flicker of solace emerges, taking form in the metaphorical illumination of two candles.
In the darkness that envelops the night of separation, the poet envisions these tears, crimson and sorrowful, as radiant flames that dispel the gloom. The bloodied tears, akin to burning candles, cast their luminous glow upon the surrounding darkness, granting a glimmer of comfort amidst the desolation.
In this striking imagery, reminiscent of a scene crafted by the great poet Rumi, the rivers of blood become symbols of fervent devotion. The illumination they cast pierces through the abyss of longing, evoking the transformative power of love amidst the heart's deepest yearnings.
Thus, through the poet's metaphorical invocation, we witness the beauty that can arise from the depths of despair. Like candles ablaze, the tears of the poet create a semblance of light, illuminating the path forward amidst the profound darkness of separation.
in parizadon se lenge khuld men ham intiqam qudarat-e-haq se yahi huren agar vaan ho gayin
In the realm of paradise, we shall enact vengeance upon these alluring fairies, if, by the power of Truth, they too reside within. The poet laments that this earthly existence falls short in granting retribution from their beloveds, yearning for their presence in heaven to fulfill his desire for revenge. In this sentiment, echoes of Dante's longing for divine justice resonate, as he journeyed through the realms of the afterlife seeking resolution.
neend usaki hai, dimag usaka hai, raten usaki hain teri zulfen jisake bazu par pareshan ho gayin
Sleep is his, Mind is his, The Nights are his. Your curls of hair, on whose shoulder have become disordered and disheveled.
In this poignant verse, the poet paints a vivid picture of the disarrayed locks of his beloved's hair, cascading upon the shoulder of the lover. In this juxtaposition, the poet reflects upon the contrasting states of their minds and souls. As the locks of hair find solace upon the lover's shoulder, tranquility befalls the rival, their sleep undisturbed, their thoughts lucid, and their nights devoid of despair. In stark contrast, the poet laments his own tumultuous state, plagued by restless nights, a mind in disarray, and thoughts entangled with confusion. Through this evocative imagery, the poet conveys the profound imbalance and longing that consumes the depths of their being, as the beloved's scattered locks symbolize the disorder within their own thoughts and emotions.
main chaman mein kya gaya, goya dabistan khul gaya bul-bulen sun kar mere nale, gazalkhwan ho gayin
I had hardly entered the garden, as if a school had opened. The nightingale having heard my lamentations, become ghazal singers.
The poet says that has he ventured into the garden, consumed by contemplation, it seemed akin to entering a school. Like a chorus of children reciting verses in unison, the nightingales, upon hearing his plaintive cries, transformed into maestros of ghazals. His lamentations, so poignant and melodious, resonated within their very souls, weaving together a refined ghazal that transcended the realms of beauty and sorrow.
In this enchanting scene, echoes of Hafez's nightingales come to mind, their songs imbued with the essence of longing and poetic mastery. The convergence of my heartfelt expressions with the nightingales' melodic imitation birthed a sublime ghazal, epitomizing the profound beauty that lies within the interplay of human emotion and the natural world.
vo nigahen kyun hui jati hain yarab dil ke par jo meri kotaahii-e-qismat se mizshgan ho gain
Why do those glances, oh Lord! keep going through the heart? Which through my failure of fate, became eye-lashes.
In this verse, the poet explores the profound impact of the beloved's glances, specifically focusing on the significance of receiving only a glimpse or eyelash. The poet distinguishes between the usual glances bestowed by the beloved and the rarity of receiving just the attention of their eyelashes. This unusual occurrence suggests a lack of fortune or limited luck, as the poet yearns for the complete gaze of the beloved.
However, despite this misfortune, the poet is astounded by the profound effect that even the smallest glance of the beloved has on their heart. It transcends the limitations of mere physical sight, resonating deeply within their being. The poet marvels at the immense power contained within these seemingly insignificant eyelash glances, acknowledging the all-encompassing impact they have on their heart.
Through this reflection, the poet poignantly captures the intensity of their longing and the ability of even the tiniest gestures from the beloved to evoke a profound emotional response. The disparity between the limited fortune and the immense impact of these small glances highlights the extraordinary power of love to transcend physical boundaries and touch the depths of the heart.
bas ki roka main ne aur seene mein ubharen pai-ba-pai meri aahein bakhiya-e-chak-e-garibaan ho gayin
Although I stopped them, more emerged or swelled up with in the chest again and again. My sighs became the stitching on the torn hem of the shirt.
The poet portrays the relentless surges of sighs within their heart, drawing a striking parallel to the act of mending a torn shirt's hem. It is an act of futility, for these sighs persistently rise, analogous to the relentless tearing and mending of the fabric. Initially, madness compelled the poet to rip the shirt, while moments of calmness allowed for the stifling of never-ending sighs, akin to stitching the torn garment. However, the mounting pressure of suppressed sighs eventually becomes suffocating, necessitating the tearing of the shirt once again to allow the heart to breathe. This cycle of sighs, tearing, and sewing offers no meaningful solace, perpetuating an endless chain of emotional turbulence. As Pritchett astutely observes, the poet skillfully employs wordplay, wherein "seene" (chest) can also be interpreted as "seena" (to sew up), while strategically juxtaposing the words "tearing" and "sewing" for heightened dramatic effect.
vaan gaya bhi main to unki gaaliyon ka kya jawab yaad thi jitini duayen, sarf-e-darbaan ho gayin
Even if I were to go there, what answer would I have for her insults? As many prayers I could remember, all were used on the doorkeeper.
The poet contemplates the consequences of approaching the beloved's door, fearing not receiving any favors or glances, but instead enduring taunts and insults. In this quandary, the poet ponders the dilemma of how to respond. All the prayers and blessings they could recall were exhausted on the doorman, leaving no resources for a suitable retort. This predicament, lacking the freshest and newest blessings to counter the beloved's crude and humiliating words, becomes a source of worry. It is indeed an amusing situation, reminiscent of the comedic complexities found in the works of Molière, where irony and wit collide, presenting the poet with a humorous yet challenging conundrum.
jaan-fiza hai baada, jis ke hath mein jaam aa gaya sab lakiren haath ki goya rag-e-jaan ho gayin
Lively is wine, in whomsoever's hand the glass comes. All the lines of the palm as if became the jugular vein.
There can be two main interpretations of this:
The first interpretation highlights the lively and exhilarating nature of wine. The poet suggests that consuming wine leads to a sense of expansiveness and euphoria, symbolized by the engorged lines on one's hand, resembling blood-filled veins. By connecting the visuals of wine, hand lines, and the heart's main artery, the poet emphasizes the life-affirming qualities of wine and its ability to animate and invigorate.
The second interpretation focuses on the visual imagery created by a glass of red wine in hand. As the glass is held, the lines on the hand appear red when seen through the glass, resembling arteries filled with living blood. This interpretation suggests that wine possesses the power to imbue life and vitality. The dry lines on the hand, usually devoid of color, now appear to be brimming with flowing blood, signifying the life-giving properties attributed to wine.
Both interpretations emphasize the transformative nature of wine, whether through its ability to elicit a sense of liveliness and euphoria or its metaphorical representation of life-giving qualities. The imagery of wine and its connection to the hand's lines and the flow of blood serve to underscore the profound impact that wine can have on one's experience and perception of life.
hum muwahhid hain, hamara kesh hai tark-e-rusum millatein jab mit gain, ajza-e-iman ho gayin
We are the believers in one God, our nature is the abandonment of rituals and customs. When nations or communities have been erased, they become part of the faith.
The poet expresses a belief in the unity of God and emphasizes that true spiritual fulfillment can only be attained by relinquishing external customs, rituals, and religious practices. According to the poet, the elimination of sectarian divisions and the abandonment of religious distinctions would enable individuals to become united in their faith. It is through transcending the confines of organized religion that one can truly embrace a genuine spiritual path.
In the poet's perspective, the essence of a genuine religion lies in the absence of any specific religious affiliation. By discarding the trappings of organized religion, individuals can reach a state where the oneness of God and the oneness of humanity are realized. This notion challenges the notion of religion as a set of dogmas and rituals, instead emphasizing a deeper, more profound connection to the divine that transcends traditional boundaries.
Ultimately, the poet suggests that the pursuit of true faith necessitates a departure from religious structures and the unification of people under the banner of a universal belief in the oneness of God. By embracing this notion, individuals can transcend the limitations of external religious practices and foster a deeper understanding of the spiritual realm.
ranj se khugar hua insaan to mit jata hai ranj mushkilen mujh par padi itani ke asaan ho gayin
When a person become accustomed to grief, then the grief gets erased. So many difficulties have fallen upon me, that they became easy.
This couplet is widely recognized as one of the most renowned verses from this ghazal. The poet asserts that by aligning oneself with grief, the grief itself loses its hold. Despite the multitude of hardships that have befallen the poet, they have become bearable, as the poet has attuned themselves to such challenges. These difficulties no longer evoke despair, as the poet has adapted to them. This sentiment also evokes the teachings of Guru Nanak, specifically the concept of "Dukh Daaru Bhaya," where sorrow transforms into a healing remedy. There are also two similar couplets by Ghalib: - 'ranj uthanay say bhi khushi ho gi, pahlay dil dard aashna keejay' and "dard minnat-kash-e-davā na huā".
yunn hi gar rota raha 'ghalib', to ae ahl-e-jahan dekhana in bastiyon ko tum ki viraan ho gayin
If Ghalib keeps on crying like this, then oh! people of this world. You take a look at these towns, that they have become abandoned and deserted.
The couplet suggests that the poet believes their emotional state is so intense and overwhelming that it has the power to affect the environment and the people around them. The poet implies that their constant weeping and expression of sorrow will have a profound impact on the towns or communities they inhabit. The idea conveyed is that the poet's emotional distress is so pervasive that it can cause a sense of desolation and emptiness, symbolically driving people away from the towns. It reflects the poet's belief in the profound influence of their emotions on the world around them.
I was singing a farsi shabad of Guru Nanak (Chilmil Bisyaar) and did some research on what Bisyaar means (बिसयारبسیار abundant, in plenty. अधिक, प्रचुर, बहुल, बहुत।). I also looked up urdu, kashmiri and farsi poetry, and found the word in one of Amir Khusrau's farsi poem's that I have heard before and written about before (Man Tu Shudam). What in urdu/hindi we say "bahut khoob," Khusrau uses "bisyaar khubaan" (see second couplet below). According to a reader of the blog, khubaan is apparently the plural of khoob.
Below in this blog I discuss how sufi teachers stay within the bounds of the holy Qur'an. I also discuss the full naat/ghazal of Amir Khusraw.
The Face of the Beloved: How Sufi Teachers Reflect the Qur’an
At first glance, the poetry of Sufi masters like Amir Khusrau appears to hover dangerously close to heresy. They speak of beloveds with divine faces, of wine and intoxication, of oneness that blurs the boundary between self and God. Yet the more closely one listens—not with suspicion, but with the heart—the more clearly one hears the echoes of the Qur'an in every metaphor, sigh, and song.
This is not rebellion. It is return.
The Sufi tradition does not step outside of Islam. Rather, it steps inside—into its most intimate, trembling core. If the Qur'an is a vast ocean, then Sufism is the diver who descends beyond the surface, bringing up pearls shaped like longing, love, and disappearance.
Signs Upon Signs
In Surah Fussilat (41:53), God declares:
“We will show them Our signs upon the horizons and within themselves, until it becomes clear to them that He is the Truth.”
This verse becomes the cornerstone of Sufi perception. For Amir Khusrau, the face of the beloved is such a sign—a mirror reflecting not merely beauty, but the Source of all beauty. When he writes:
“O your beautiful face is the envy of Azar’s idols…” “Even as I praise you, your beauty surpasses description…”
he is not worshipping the form. He is reading it—like a verse, a sign (āyah). Just as a reciter of the Qur'an chants the written revelation, the Sufi beholds the living revelation in creation: a flower, a gaze, a moment, a beloved.
Wherever You Turn
The Qur’an says:
“To God belong the East and the West—wherever you turn, there is the face of God.”
— Surah al-Baqarah (2:115)
Sufi poetry, with its obsession over the beloved’s eyes, lips, and form, is not idolatry but recognition—that the Divine face is everywhere. The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) is reported to have said, “God is beautiful and loves beauty.” Sufis do not turn away from the world to find God. They turn through it.
The face of the beloved—whether human or symbolic—is not an object of attachment but a threshold. It shatters the illusion of separation. It becomes, in the words of Rumi, “a candle in whose light the moth burns itself.”
Oneness and Annihilation
Perhaps the most controversial aspect of Sufi thought is the idea of oneness—fanā, or annihilation of the self in God. In Khusrau’s couplet:
“I became you, you became me; I became the body, you the soul...” “So none can say thereafter: I am one thing, and you another.”
We hear the echo of Surah Hadid (57:3):
“He is the First and the Last, the Manifest and the Hidden.”
The Sufi does not claim to be God in essence. Rather, the Sufi claims that nothing remains of their ego—no “I” separate from the Divine. This is consistent with the Qur’anic idea that God is the only enduring reality:
“Everything will perish except His Face.”
— Surah al-Qasas (28:88)
This is not arrogance; it is disappearance.
Love in the Qur’an
A common critique is that the Qur’an does not emphasize love. But this is a misreading.
“He loves them, and they love Him.”
— Surah al-Ma’idah (5:54)
Sufis take this verse not metaphorically but as the deepest truth. God is not a distant lawgiver alone; He is a Beloved, yearning for His lovers. The Qur’an, after all, repeatedly uses the word “Wadūd”—the Most Loving.
The language of the lover and the beloved, found throughout Sufi poetry, is thus Qur’anic in spirit. It makes audible what the heart already knows.
Wine, Beauty, Music: Language of the Heart
When Sufis speak of wine, they refer to intoxication with remembrance, not literal drink. When they dance or sing, it is not hedonism but zikr—the sacred act of remembering God. The Qur’an does not condemn poetry or music outright; it condemns that which distracts from truth. Sufi practice uses poetry and melody to draw the soul toward the Real.
As Rumi says:
“Listen to the reed flute’s song, lamenting the pain of separation…”
It is not music that is the danger—it is forgetting.
The Qur'an as Ocean, Sufism as Love’s Dive
Sufi teachers like Amir Khusrau are not speaking outside Islam. They are whispering from within it—from its deepest chambers, where love and longing mingle with silence and flame. Their metaphors may unsettle those who cling only to surface meanings. And sometimes Sufi teachers have had to pay the ultimate price for doing so. But for those willing to listen with the inner ear, the message is the same as the Qur’an’s:
That God is near.
That beauty is a sign.
That love is the path.
And that the seeker and the Sought are already bound
by something older than time.
As Khusrau ends his ghazal with a plea:
“Khusrau is a stranger, fallen in your city… Perhaps, for God’s sake, you might glance upon the poor.”
This is no different from the prayer of every Prophet, every saint, every heart:
“Guide us to the straight path.”
Translation and Discussion
1.
ai chehra-e-zebā-e-tū rashk-e-butān-e-āzarī har-chand vasfat mī-kunam dar husn zaañ bālā-tarī O your beautiful face is the envy of Azar’s idols Though I praise you, your beauty surpasses even my description
Meaning: Your beauty is so divine that it outshines even the famed idols crafted by Azar (the father of Prophet Abraham, known for idol-making). Even as I try to praise your beauty, I fall short—your radiance is beyond praise.
2.
tū az parī chābuk-tarī vaz barg-e-gul nāzuk-tarī vaz har-che goyam behtarī haqqā ajā.ib dilbarī You are swifter than fairies, more delicate than a rose petal And whatever I say, you are still better—you are truly a wondrous beloved
Meaning: You defy all comparisons—faster than angels, more tender than flowers. No matter how extravagant the metaphors, they don’t capture the marvel that you are. You are a miracle of love and beauty.
3.
tā-naqsh mī-bandad falak hargiz nadāda iiñ namak huure na-dānam yā malak farzand-e-ādam yā parī Since the heavens first drew figures, they never granted such grace I don’t know—are you a houri, an angel, a child of Adam, or a fairy?
Meaning: Since creation began, nothing like you has appeared. You transcend the boundaries of category: neither purely divine nor entirely mortal—you are something inexplicably in between.
4.
a.alam hama yaġhmā-e-tū ḳhalqe hama shaidā-e-tū aañ nargis-e-shahlā-e-tū āvurda rasm-e-kāfirī The whole world is your plunder, and people are madly in love with you Your intoxicating eyes have introduced the custom of infidelity
Meaning: Your charm has conquered all hearts, turning even the faithful into lovers of the mortal. The "nargis" (narcissus-like eyes) have such allure that they make people forsake reason and tradition.
5.
āfāq-hā gardīda-am mehr-e-butāñ varzīda-am bisyār ḳhūbāñ dīda-am lekin tu chīze dīgarī I have wandered the world, worshipped many idols Seen countless beauties—but you are something entirely other
Meaning: This couplet emphasizes the uniqueness of the beloved. The poet has seen much, sought love everywhere, and yet finds in this one figure something unparalleled—a "chīze dīgarī" (something else altogether).
6.
ai rāhat-o-ārām-e-jāñ bā qadd chuuñ sarv-e-ravāñ zīnsāñ marau dāman-kashāñ kārām-e-jānam mī-parī O comfort and peace of my soul, with your cypress-like flowing form Do not leave like this pulling your hem—I am the task of your soul, O angel
Meaning: Here, the speaker pleads with the beloved not to abandon him. The beloved’s graceful form is compared to a flowing cypress tree, and the poet begs: don’t walk away, for I belong to you, like soul to body.
7.
man tū shudam tū man shudī man tan shudam tū jaañ shudī tā kas na-goyad ba.ad aziiñ man dīgaram tū dīgarī I became you, you became me; I turned into the body, you the soul So no one can say after this: I am one thing, and you another
Meaning: This is the spiritual climax. The merging of the lover and beloved—of self and Divine—so completely that all duality vanishes. It echoes the mystical theme of fanā (dissolution of the self in the Beloved).
8.
'ḳhusrau' ġharībast-o-gadā uftāda dar shahr-e-shumā bāshad ki az bahr-e-ḳhudā sū-e-ġharībāñ bañgarī Khusrau is a poor, fallen stranger in your city Perhaps, for God’s sake, you might glance upon this poor one
Meaning: A humble ending, where the poet (Khusrau) pleads for grace. Having spoken of love and union, he still bows in surrender. This last verse returns to the classic ghazal tradition of ending with the poet's name and a final cry for mercy or attention.
Poem by Khusro
Ay chehra-e zeba-e tu rashk-e-butaan-e aazari
Har chand wasfat mikunam dar husn zaan baalaatari.
Aafaq ra gar deedah am mehr-e butan warzeedah am;
Bisyaar khubaan deedah am lekin tu cheez-e deegari.
Man tu shudam, tu man shudi, man tan shudam, tu jan shudi;
Taakas nagoyad baad azeen man deegaram tu deegari.
Khusrau ghareeb ast-o gada uftadah dar shehr-e shuma;
Baashad ki az behr-e khuda, su-e ghareeban bangari.
(trans. Dr. Hadi Hasan)
O you whose beautiful face is the envy of the idols of Azar
(Abraham's father and famous idol maker);
You remain superior to my praise.
All over the world have I traveled; many a maiden’s love have I tasted;
Many a beauty-star have I seen; but you are something unique.
I have become you, and you me; I have become the body, you the soul;
So that none hereafter may say that “I am someone and you someone else.”
Khusro a beggar, a stranger has come wandering to your town;
For the sake of god, have pity on this beggar and do not turn him away from your door.
Another trans by Dukhiram
O Thou whose beautiful face is envy of the idols of Azar (Abraham's father and image engraver of antiquity);
Thou remainst every moment superior to any praise of mine.
The mask maker who makes visages, if he saw Thine visage
The dryness of his past choices would make him start all over
Thou Queen of Fairies, bouquets of flowers pale beside Thee
Neither Sun nor Moon can match Thee, Resplendent Thou, Jupiter Thou
All over the world have I traveled; many a maiden’s love have I tasted;
Many a beauteous star have I seen; but Thou art unique.
I am become Thou, Thou me; I am become the body, Thou the soul;
So that none hereafter may say “I am I and Thou are Thou. (i.e. someone else)”
Khusrau a beggar, a stranger has come wandering to your town;
For sake of God's Ocean, pity the poor, turn him not from the door.
A longer version of this poem:
ai chehra-e-zebā-e-tū rashk-e-butān-e-āzarī
har-chand vasfat mī-kunam dar husn zaañ bālā-tarī
tū az parī chābuk-tarī vaz barg-e-gul nāzuk-tarī
vaz har-che goyam behtarī haqqā ajā.ib dilbarī
tā-naqsh mī-bandad falak hargiz nadāda iiñ namak
huure na-dānam yā malak farzand-e-ādam yā parī
a.alam hama yaġhmā-e-tū ḳhalqe hama shaidā-e-tū
aañ nargis-e-shahlā-e-tū āvurda rasm-e-kāfirī
āfāq-hā gardīda-am mehr-e-butāñ varzīda-am
bisyār ḳhūbāñ dīda-am lekin tu chīze dīgarī
ai rāhat-o-ārām-e-jāñ bā qadd chuuñ sarv-e-ravāñ
zīnsāñ marau dāman-kashāñ kārām-e-jānam mī-parī
man tū shudam tū man shudī man tan shudam tū jaañ shudī
tā kas na-goyad ba.ad aziiñ man dīgaram tū dīgarī
'ḳhusrau' ġharībast-o-gadā uftāda dar shahr-e-shumā
Singing oneness!
