I went to take a stroll in the Garden of Love to-day -
My Love's singing birds came to sing for me...
...under the cool shade of chinār-tree,
And swarms of honey-bees flitted across the garden,
I am a Kashmiri, I, too, am a human being,
Day and night I hear the shrieks of mothers,
Moaning and mourning over their slain children,
Shouldering the coffins of near and dear,
Musical Wreaths I Wear
Beloved, your music pops up from my heart's deep,
How can my face conceal my heavenly ecstasy,
When I hear any one speaking about me
It surprises my ear, my heart, and my mind
How can he know me when I don't know myself
You can see my outer self,
WHO AM I?
Who am I?
Every hour I create my new identity,
Speaking To My Self
So Silent! So still an ocean!
Listening to mystic lore
Once upon a time, o my sons and daughters, listen!
You must always listen!
People would with wide open heart and eyes welcome
But, now, with ice-frozen eyes they look at us and fear our shadows
Listening to music that falls like rains,
Growing love, producing ecstasy,
I'm feeling peace in my soul and heart!
It lifts me up from the lowest of low!
Where's the cure to one's heartaches, for one battered by sorrows?
Who's there to comfort him and to shower love on him?
Arise, O Self, go and sit under that singed chinar.
You have no mother around under whose garment hem you would nestle.