The sun is touching the mountain tops,
Disappearing beyond the horizons,
The darkness envelopingthe beauty,
Whatever little life remains is to love my lord,
The pilgrims go to Mecca to see the house of God,
The lovers view Kaaba in their own souls,
Inside of them, where they see nothing but lord,
There is no one like them, neither scholars nor gurus,
Both are bereft of love and the divine knowledge,
I have seen many a faqir who always love the lord,
All the hours, they hear the mystic word, hu, hu,
All the hours, their eyes are fixed on his beauty,
Love is the be-all and end-all of their life
Mykoul
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem