Husn o Ishq

As sinks the silver barque of the moon at dawn, Within the sun's effulgent, flooding storm;

As, cloaked in light, a lotus disappears, The same pale hue as moonlit night it wears;

As in the Splendor of Sinai, the White Hand of Moses, As in the garden's fragrant wave, the scent a bud discloses—

So is my heart within the torrent of Your love; If You are the assembly, I'm the life that makes it move.

You are the lightning-flash of Beauty; I, Love's culmination, If You are dawn, my tears become Your dew's creation.

If I'm the eve of exile, You become my twilight glow; Within my heart, the chaos of Your scattered tresses flow.

From Your mere image, my astonishment is born; Your Beauty is perfected, and my Love is perfect form.

For this, my garden of verse, You are the breeze of spring; To my restless imagination, You gave its deep repose.

Since first Your love came to inhabit this my breast, New splendors in my mirror have been made manifest.

From Beauty, Love's own nature is spurred toward perfection; From You, the saplings of my hopes find green direction.

My caravan has found contentment at its destination.