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I’m indentured to Love. My heart’s a passion flower,
stained like a tulip’s petal with intensity: deeply,
darkly, a richer hue than any other bloom.
I’m the rose that all the world has sought.
But here’s my pride:
I’ve kept on searching. I haven’t tired or fainted,
complained or failed.
I stand tall and hold my head up high.
I’ve earned my glory.
My grief is precious, restlessness sweet.
My desire is deathless, longing beyond limit.
I search in vain for the shining diamond of the soul.
Look, Beloved: Your torch is shining, mercy blesses
my heart’s garden with celestial radiance. Your light
makes my shadows seem brighter than the sun.
I sit apart while true believers circumambulate the shrine.
Yet every strand of my sacred thread’s more precious to God
than all their prayers, because he sees my heart.
Makhfi, look beyond your sorrow. The breath of love
blows like the morning breeze. Your tears rain gently on
the garden, summoning the rose, calling forth the spring.
