مثنوی من

I think that I've realised it was always going to end like this.

I've lived in regret and guilt with a tortured mind and yet I've been recognised for what I write and create.

If not suicide then what else would be fitting for me?

Each line of the adhan is always called beside its pair;

A yawn parts my eye, then it nudges its twin awake.

The clock strikes two, and the stars flaunt their brilliance outside.

The nightingale glides by my window, both wings stretched in balance.

I fall from my covers, and my feet meet the ground.

Soon I'll bow in sajdah, and then bow once again,

then rise to make one rakah, and make fajr with another.

I clasp my hands together, and bring the water to my face.

I cross my legs upon the carpet.

Tasbih beads slip between thumb and finger, as I wait

in a silence vast and empty, broken only by the call.

"Allahu Akbar", and "Allahu Akbar",

"Allahu Akbar", and "Allahu Akbar",

and as I sigh my iqaama, my voice fades into a vacant air.

From heavens high your dress in sunshine glows.

That night you stamp a vow you would not break.

Could i deny the alms my lord bestows?

In prayer I bow beneath the moonlit sky -

exposed, unhidden to the chill of night.

But just how men ignore the beggar's cry,

the stars avert their gaze and dim their light.

My hands no longer play guitar the same,

as when they could recall your velvet touch.

Mistakes I've made - that I could not reframe.

But I live on - the hand of hope I clutch.

That as that moon and sun, decline and climb,

کہ شراب پینا سکھا دیا

یہ تیری نظر کا قصور ہے

اور مجھے ایک شرابی بنا دیا

میرا دل اپ کو دیکھتا ہے

جب میری انکھوں دیکھتے ہیں شکست

ہر دن تیری یاد میں گزرتا ہے

سارا جہان مست اور اس کا نظام مست

محبت کو خدا نے ایک جسم میں سما دیا

اور جگر دیا اپ نے، تیرا جسم سے

نماز یا ذکر سے کیا کبھی دل کو خدا ملا؟

فیض تیری نظر سے ملتا ہے

میں نے جب بھی تجھے پکارا ہے

ایک صدا ائی - کیا تو ہمارا ہے

I am a dog in your alley - trapped in your snare.

My lord! This ache, so slow this sacred bliss

Though wine I have drunk, no drink could compare,

To your blameworthy gaze, which sorely I do miss.

The world I knew has been spun, ripped apart

My days are drunk, and my nights in fever blaze.

My vision is blurred, and yet you fill my heart.

And so only you fulfill my gaze.

God sculpted a body, personifying love - its essence.

From which you gave your heart - that your love forever would be known.

What has ever came from mere prayer or remembrance?

Fulfillment and reward comes from your gaze alone.

And as sobriety brings anxiety, I cry apon your name.