Trifles

Agony in every atom of our being, Every breath of us a rising from the dead.

To Sikandar lost amidst the Land of Darkness, “Hard is Death, but Life is harder,” Khizr said.

The pearl is used to the ways of the sea. What can it know about the millstone that grind grain?

The reed pen, being hollow, makes a noise; The pencil, being solid lead, makes none.

I am one who has walked around The Harem with an idol under my arms. I am one who has shouted Allah’s name When idols were in front of me.

My heart still wants That I should go on seeking, though I have set foot On a path thinner than a hair.

Sweet is the time of Spring, the red Rose cried; Sweeter an hour here than an age outside;

Before some lover plucks you for his cap, Sweetest to die in this green garden’s lap.

The poet is child, youth and old man all in one Distinctions of age are unknown to poetry.

Three things make your vision better: Greenery, running water and fair faces.

Three things tend to make you fatter: Silk robes, good smells and a carefree heart.

If you do not possess The power to forgive, Go, get to grips with those Who have wronged you.

Do not nurse hatred in your heart. O do not make your honey sour By mixing vinegar with it.

Do not speak to me of his sensitive, fine mind, Our poet’s crystal breaks at a mere breath of wind.

In this world either be a hill stream, which Observes heights and depressions in its course,

Or be a headlong flood, which just ignores Heights and depressions as it rushes on.

Do not apply a hair dye to Your eyebrows and your beard, For you cannot get back your youth By stealing years from time.

Love has no use for those who do not dare. To catch dead birds an eagle does not care.

The poet’s product is not saleable. The silver of a white rose will not buy you bread.

How nice a thing it were If every traveller Who wants to travel far and fast Could go free from the trammels of the past.

If blind conformity were good, The Prophet himself would Have gone the way Of Arabs in an earlier day.