I once held my breath, in awe.
The master and the friend were conversing.
The beloved's contours had a maestro's chisel;
The friend to the master showed a path,
Where the beloved's eyes and steps.
The tavern's door had long been forgotten.
The heart shall lead to the divinity of presence.
Sadiqullah Khan
Peshawar
November 28,2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem