Overwhelmed by the Beloved’s greatness, the poet wrestles with the limitations of human language and seeks forgiveness from the Creator
That Beloved:
The mercy for all worlds,
His Praise: Many tried for ever,
But scribes ran out of words.
Ah! Our human language
Is shaped by limits,
But Beloved has reached
The highest of heights.
He is the leader
Of the worlds twin,
Earth, heavens, angels,
Jinn, and man-
Yet it is our biggest fortune:
“I am but a man like you.”
Love makes one so helpless,
Astaghfirullah!
To You I confess.
Forgive! If I crossed
The limits of the Law,
I am young;
My faith’s fruit: still raw.
May 5 2004. Edit July 2024