How can one write poems for the beloved,
Whom he has not seen?
Such a mystery! It is astonishing!
I hope you admit that my poems show clearly,
That mine are the poems about the beloved,
Who is known to me as the One-reality;
My poems are the gifts, my beloved gives to me,
The ivory beads from the Unseen!
That drop one after one,
In the lap of my cognitive mind,
And I make from them the rosary of my poems;
I receive the poems that my beloved inspires to me,
Through the medium of my divine intellect,
Containing the words of wisdom and mysteries,
That I can't get from any guru or a manuscript;
I have seen that my gracious lord is the real source,
Of the poetry I write.
MyKoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem