Beloved''s Manifestation

Beloved''s Manifestation
Beloved''s Manifestation

One who is eager for love,
the beloved''s manifestation is in his soul.

In his existence there is the sign,
in his bones, marrow, and blood.

Is the beloved a houri or a human?
Venus, the sun, or the moon?

My beloved, in short,
is neither from the earth, nor from the sky.

Day by day my beloved''s beauty becomes more elegant.
Moment by moment I become more saddened.

My beloved is closer to me than myself,
Yet, I don''t know where my beloved is.

One who has reason and knowledge,
becomes intimate with someone of his kind.

I, helpless and Majnun-like,
have become accustomed to the desert.
  

Jun, 18 2010     647 chars (5 sms)     3703 views       English Poetry

more English Poetry SMS Messages

You’re welcome sit down here
Between welcome and farewell I sat there
She starts to click her fingers and toes
Music Music out of this noise
My ears assured me and even nose
...Perfume tidiness cleanliness are highlighted
As well as their papers lit Phosphorus
No more mess, no more Chaos in this chorus
She and she and she are the tops of the hierarchy
Infected us with Poise that topples our anarchy
Now it’s clear that King Lear was right
In his abundance of the Monarchy
For the benefit of two girls
Since oranges can’t be compared to apples
Thanks to their Oranges’ Adam’ apple
Good Night My Love!



As I am saying good night at the end of the day,
And you are not here, but many miles away,
My heart is so empty and so lonely inside,
As I wipe away a tear I am trying to hide.

I close my eyes and try to go to sleep,
But with the sadness inside I begin to weep.
Suddenly I remember what you once said to me,
Just meet me in the stars, waiting for you I will be.

When distance tends to keep us apart,
Remember I still hold you near in my heart.
When the night together, can''t be ours,
Just close your eyes and meet me in the stars.

Remembering those words, I begin to smile,
And gently close my eyes, lessening the miles.
I can see the stars, oh how beautifully arranged,
But you are not there, no hug to exchange.
Laugh so hard that even
sorrow smiles at u!
Live life so well that even
death loves to see u live!
Fight so hard that even
fate accepts its defeat.
"October''s The Month
When The Smallest Breeze
Gives Us A Shower
Of Autumn Leaves.
Bonfires And Pumpkins,
Leaves Sailing Down -
October Is Red
And Golden And Brown."
- Can Teach Songs

"Listen! The Wind Is Rising,
And The Air Is Wild With Leaves,
We Have Had Our Summer Evenings,
Now For October Eves!"
- Humbert Wolfe
I didn’t decide to carry the load of sorrow,
sorrow existed, this house of sorrow also existed.

I didn’t lift the Jam-e Jam to drink wine,
wine existed, this house of wine also was there.

It is said: "He who created the house of love,
let the beloved burn and the lover burnt."

The cruelty of the red rose, and the cry of the nightingale—
the candle existed, and this moth also existed.

One’s pain is too much, another’s little,
one’s heart is afflicted, another’s smiles.
At every sunset, I cry and plead
Slow and just living, and yet I bleed
With angst, do I cry, take me home.
Please take me away from this old age home.
When you were born,
you were crying
and everyone around you was smiling,
live your life so that when you die,
you''re smiling
and everyone around you is crying.
You showed me the sea..though your depiction
Her turbulent surface..chides my emotions
Her serene belly...recalls my intentions
The setting sun...reminds me of lost time
Fistful of sand...coerceing to let bygones be
Wave''s dance with winds...accentuates team-spirit
Sails at full mast.....suggests effeciency at peak
Deep Love Delight
Come across the moor with me,
in the bright moonlight,
with no fear or fright,
I'll show you all my heart,
...with my deep love and delight.
Because of you I chose exile,
I’ve been estranged from my tribe for some time.

I watered my flower with my tears,
Injustice! Don’t take me away from my flower.

There’s nothing wrong if a king wants a pauper,
If a pauper desires a king, he can’t help it.

My desire is too high; my luck is too low,
There is no cure for this pain but death.

What’s with the melancholic ascetic?
He argues with me about faith and religion.

The religion of the lover is the beloved.
I’m taking no path but my own.
One has become Moses and has seen the Beloved on Mount Sinai.
One, like Jesus, has seen the Beloved while crucified.

One has seen in the dark, another in the light.
Each person has a different path to the Friend’s neighborhood.

One becomes like soil, and kisses the threshold.
Another becomes fervent then flutters.

One, like Mazun, makes his chest a shield,
seeking the arrow of love.

The sweet laughter—I didn’t love in vain.
I didn’t graft reason onto love.

She pulls me, she pulls me with her lasso-like braid.
How could I be separated from her ambergris-scented hair?

Peris, lovely, tall beauties –
Mazun won’t refuse if they want his soul.

I’ve put my head in their path.
My head’s bad luck is because of my tongue.