A drop

2 09 2008

Ghazal 9

Even in prayer we are so by ourselves if the gates themselves closed
we would only return in silence to the flames

You who are beloved have no one to compare to
even your likeness reflecting in glass could never face you

A complaint caught in the throat marks the heart
the joy of the drop is caught by the dust

If your story doesn’t break each eyelash with blood
the story is not one of love but of romance

A man who can’t name the ocean by its drop
has an eye that is blind a heart that is shut.

-Ghalib, as translated by Jim Yagmin


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