Roseate Glow

I woke up with a piercing ache through my heart and soul. It was the pain that screams to come out through the pen and take shape of a sublime expression. But today there were no words of my own to contain the massive storm of feelings. Such are the times to turn to a greater artist, a master sculptor. And today I found refuge in Amir Khusrau’s poetry and the roseate glow of Taj just before sunset that I captured previous Sunday.

My love for you is the roseate glow that the sun fills me with everyday, of distance I care not

Kafir-e-ishqam musalmani mara darkaar neest
Har rag-e mun taar gashta hajat-e zunnaar neest;
Az sar-e baaleen-e mun bar khez ay naadaan tabeeb
Dard mand-e ishq ra daroo bajuz deedaar neest;
Nakhuda dar kashti-e maagar nabashad go mubaash
Makhuda daareem mara nakhuda darkaar neest;
Khalq mi goyad ki Khusrau but parasti mi kunad
Aarey aarey mi kunam ba khalq mara kaar neest.

- Amir Khusrau

TRANSLATION:

I am a pagan and a worshipper of love: the creed (of Muslims) I do not need;
Every vein of mine has become taunt like a wire,
the (Brahman’s) girdle I do not need.
Leave from my bedside, you ignorant physician!
The only cure for the patient of love is the sight of his beloved –
other than this no medicine does he need.
If there be no pilot in our boat, let there be none:
We have god in our midst: the sea we do not need.
The people of the world say that Khusrau worships idols.
So he does, so he does; the people he does not need,
the world he does not need.