Medina’s Mimber

One fine day
In the morning,
Against the sun
Was I facing.

My heart
Full of courage,
Free from
Any fear-cage.

All saw me
Daring with thrill;
None who could
My confidence kill.

Just then I heard
A Him-fearing voice,
Casting a doubt
On my apparent rejoice.

“O Jaihoon,
Why are your
Little eyes swollen?
What tearful yarn
Have you today woven?
O silly one,
What has hurt
You so much?
Your eyes appear
In such a shape.”

Ah! I had not a slight clue:
What love-drink did my heart brew?

I was rather glad;
While on the way,
Upon His Beloved
Did I many salaam say.

About the tears:
I thought and thought,
Wondering from where
The tears came to light!

And then did
I slowly remember
The Beloved
Who stood on Medina’s Mimbar.

That day had I longed much
For the dust of the Hijazi suburb,
Where lived the
Noble Nawaab of Yathrib.

His joyful thoughts
Made me unaware
Of my eyes
With tears getting wet.

I began to feel
As if my sight
Would make
‘Even hell sweat’!

Ah! But now where is
Such a Tabrezi voice
To witness within this Hindi
The Hijazi fragrance?

I now pray for
The bright spring to enter
Across the corridors
Of this solitary winter,

And once more
Make me fully realize
The tears of joy
As my heart cries.

April 30, 2003. Edit 2026