click: larger view/new window
Your glance is so commanding,
even the morning breeze is
breathing fire. The heat isn’t
soothing. It fades, disappears.
We worship the source of life
with holy words of prayer.
The angel of immortality
tends to the spring of rebirth.
Born to the rank of ruler,
no one’s heir to a higher rank
than yours. Your beauty is
entirely divine, lit by grace.
I know you’ve conspired with
Heaven to ruin my life. You can’t
fool me with false hope anymore.
I’ve turned from hope to hate.
Makhfi, your time is running out.
Every day, you lose a day. Don’t
chase away a weary traveller.
Greet him warmly, if you can.
