what is Mecca? ” madman tell me!
A lover’s house, oh pious priest,
If you have the eyes to see,
As are dwellings all around us,
All by the Creator made.
What is faith, oh madman tell me?
Pious priest, what can it be,
But belief in His existence,
With the heart, seeing of a dream,
Both of union, and communion
With beloved’s entity.
What is Heaven, madman tell me?
Pious priest, our concepts differ.
For you Heaven is no more
Than a gourmet’s spread, for me
It’s communion and being drunk
With the wine of ecstasy.
What’s a houri, madman tell me?
Pious priest, a butterfly,
A crimson line on the horizon
As the sun sets on the sea;
It’s a bubble quickly pricked,
Of our laughter as we grieve.
What’s intoxication, madman?
Pious priest, it’s an excursion –
In the many-splendoured palace,
Of an intense ecstasy,
It’s to enter and to exit
At our will and at our ease.
What is prayer, Oh madman,
Would you know its entity?
Pious priest, kissing the dust,
Gaining entry to the street,
Of the loved one’s residence,
And becoming the intense
Longing, hope, sometime to greet
The beloved with a smile.
And what is prostration, madman?
Pious priest, it’s the reduction
Of one’s self to dust, and placing
At beloved’s feet the necklace
Of the flowers of ecstasy!
What is life? Oh madman, tell me!
Pious priest, to me it seems,
I am life, life is my dreams,
Of the morrow, day before!
And, what is communion, madman?
Pious priest, it is the drowning
In the shoreless lake of beauty;
It’s the dancing midst the stars
And enveloping the moon
With the essence of one’s being.
What is beauty and its essence?
Madman! tell me, if you please!
Pious priest, it is a wave
Of our drunkenness intense
And a faintly smiling thought,
And a slender thread of light!
And, what is the beloved, madman?
Pious priest, the sane can’t see him,
The insane just barely see
The shadow of his lashes
Long and curled, infinitely!
And, Oh madman! finally,
Who are you and all your kind?
l am just somebody’s longing,
And a flower of someone’s shapely,
Tapering fingers, hennaed” bright,
Lying coyly, in repose
On beloved’s pretty feet.

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