Passion

Laila's tent is dark, Majnun's home a ruin stark,Such fervent desolation, from love's visible mark.

Passion has undone the fasteners of beauty's veil,Now no hindrance remains, save for the gazing eye.

My heart is stained, my liver is in pieces, all tears have turned to blood; this love for the beloved is a mixture of blood and water.

When, for a journey's cause, the beloved packed the palanquin,The passion's heat bound a heart to every single atom.

So smitten are we by one spring of captivating grace,No dust in our grave, save for the flower's bright trace.

My ocean-drinking capacity bore the saqi's pride away;No wave of wine today in the flask's neck-vein does sway.

Love demands patience, yet desire is restless;What hue shall I give my heart, till it bleeds its very essence?

I write, 'Asad', with my heart's fervent heat, my ardent lines I frame,So none can fault my words, nor question my claim.

I understand not whence this madness has come to me!Where I received a sharp rebuke last eve, I've come and stand, this morn, to see.

Astonishment, the surging joy of passion's restless, fiery plight,A quicksilver pillow and the heart's deep core, reflect this wondrous light.

The broken heart's pleasure, to suffer the wound of desire; the raw liver's delight, to be drenched in salt.

My heart burns, why did I not burn to ash in one swift blaze?Alas, the incompleteness of this breath, showering flames!

Oh, the intoxication of this love, don't let it leave me, The wounds are bleeding, my heart is in turmoil. My sanity, forgotten by my own hands, Has been made to dance by your love, and I am lost.

In a vision, His shining face appeared to me, And fragrance streamed profusely from His tresses; I fainted at the sight of these visions, Overwhelmed by the brilliance of His eyes.

Behold the sway of Majnun's blood-raining eyes, For whom a desert's floral beauty is but a foot-carpet.

Asad, what is expression's boldness, save Majnun's wild despair?For Layla of my verse resides, a secret in her palanquin there.

Beholding me, from behind the screen, my garment wildly cast,My very nakedness was then, to my own body made fast.

My shadow, Asad, flees from me like smoke, Who can stay near this soul aflame?

From the moment you arrived in my heart, my whole body burned; / A spark like this descended, and it burned my very garments.

My smoke now rivals the hyacinth's fair grace, For by the fiery flower's passion, I've burned from head to toe.

In thought, the madness for the beloved's eyelashes resides,A hundred life-veins, like a path, to a lancet-field it yields.

My life, Asad, yearns for one fervent gaze; The moth advocates for your petitioner's plea.

Why did I not burn, seeing the beloved's face so bright?I burn, beholding now my own gaze's might.

A test of desire, just once, is also necessary. O passion of love, give me that man-testing wine.

In my chest, this heart, liver, and life, are like the fragrance of sandalwood; what things has love burned, setting the house ablaze?

Still, O impact of vision, disgrace's shame holds sway, A glance that stirs up mischief, and both worlds' doors give way.

If in your ardent longing to see, you behead me,May my gaze, like a candle's flower, be scattered restlessly.

Mad passion's fervent wait, and restless lament, became a binding snare,From the heart's dark core to the lips, a chain of rue-smoke did appear.

In the blazing fire of separation, suddenly, without her, My heart burned so fiercely that even a little life was not spared.

How long, O thought, will I lament companionship's warm glow? My heart is consumed by the fire of desire's burning woe.