Not a single day passes in lovers’ lives without tears, reflecting each other’s longing in the ancient pain-mirror— reminds Jaihoon.
Last night she made me,
In love’s pain cry.
When heard I her tale,
Of plead to the Most High.
I too once used to wail,
Like a small child,
For hours would I sit,
In the prayer mat, like-nailed.
My words were not loud:
I wept as if I never cried.
Hey Tasbih!
Why make me cry with your tale?
Why make my face pale?
Why make me envy about,
Your Him-loving maqam?
Why burn in me the flame-
Of love with this kalaam?
Why spread the fire
Of your restless heart?
The lessons of patience,
I am yet to to learn.
Excuse upon excuse,
Have you brought,
To make my heart,
In His Love wither.
I have but one appeal,
Hey sweet Rose!
Make me cry as much,
But remain with me ever.
Tears shed in solitude,
Lack the warmth;
Unlike those,
When beside the friend.
Jaihoon too can,
Your tears trickle;
With Him-arousing moments,
Not so little.
‘Tis the age-old habit of Love,
To make tears in lovers flow.
Not a single day passes,
But the lover cries.
Each makes the other’s eyes blur,
Reflecting one another in the pain-mirror.
March 07 2004. Edit march 2023
