Monday, 16 December 2013

Jo Rang Rangaya Gūrha

Assalamu'alaikum wa rahmatullah


The color it dyed, is tinted so deep. The hue of my guide, o friend!

Cackle o heart, so the Lord hears. Seek the ache, to not miss the 'hū'.

Misery chokes this bosom of mine. Blazes within a flaring 'hū'.

Without cinder, a fire wont light. Without plight, there is no spark of 'hū'.

Entangling with the flames of a pyre. The poor ones burn by the amber of 'hū'! 

Loving the Supreme is quite a task. Watch your wings as you long o moth! 

Like a hawk I soar. Through the heights of the bounties of 'hū'!

Its 'kun' alone that my tongue knows of. Rest use their pen to talk of 'hū'.

Kinds of Plato, kinds of Socrates. Make no match to my 'hū'!

Countless are dregs like the wealthy Hatim. At the steps of Sultan Bahu who beg for 'hū'.

The black locks and the glowing hand. What marvels to witness, o friend!


Through the ocean of ardor and rapture.

How to float like a brave heart?!

Each vortex where it whirls the most. It is there that the loops break.

Of those wild beasts and demons and barrens.

Let not just the sight daunt you.

Why enshrine one self as a 'lowly humble faqīr'?

When the desires keep stealing the breath of 'hū'.


The cast out Bullehya came to me.

And capered dancing around, o friend!

Poem: Sultan Bahū (1630-1691)
Reciter: Madam Abida Parvīn
Translation: Not mine

Sealed with prayers for mercy, peace and love, amin!

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