Ghani khan no.1

A Poppy Flower

In a desert, once, on a hunt did I find, With a radiant smile, a flower so fair; Sadly, I approached and sighed, "Ah! Of my kind Are you too a hapless flower from a beloved's hair. Frail fingers wouldn't take you to a soft face so close, Nor would you be kissed by lips delicate and rose." With a silent smile the flower replied, "Don't lose heart! This desert I wouldn't give up for the gardens of Iran, A solitary I am here while legions are there, Amidst this cursed soil I stand apart. In this gray desert, a flamboyant flame of divine light am I,

Beauty's silent song, a miracle from the sky. In your garden, there are thousands of flowers like me A nameless droplet in a nameless sea. You too, in your desert, don't feel forlorn, To behold you at last shall come a sore Ghani Khan.

I am madness in raptures A hue of beloved eyes Why, what am I made for, Now a mood, now melody, I am a flame descending I am a jingling joy, In your veins a fire, A sparkling radiance, I don't exist; I'm wind, With tears in my cheer Speak up, madman!

Music

borne on an airy steed, coloring up in dance. I neither know nor gather; a voice that just rings on. to the heart's hidden cellars; a drunkenness in raptures. I am a quivering flame, burning passion, yearning. heaving joy on joy; and sad, smiling eyes. what makes you weep with me?

Prayer

O river of beauty and radiance! Grant me a scintilla of light;

Grant me eyes full of laughter and lips full of delight.

For this minor heart of mine, I seek a beloved's souvenir; O river of beauty and radiance! Grant me a scintilla of light.

For this pitch-dark sorrow's manor, a glowing grain to quell the night; Grant me eyes full of laughter and lips full of delight.

For this rapture and its yearning, grant me a dear beloved's sight, Indulge me with your greater love; grant me your gracious face's pride. For this being's withered garden, I seek a covenant of spring,

I don't ask you to grant me heaven; I'm not seeking Sinai's height.

Let this dream's very breath and time point to its own interpretation, Grant me the bosom of a fakir, and a heart with a shah's elation.

Prayer

O river of beauty and radiance! Grant me a scintilla of light;

Grant me eyes full of laughter and lips full of delight.

For this minor heart of mine, I seek a beloved's souvenir; O river of beauty and radiance! Grant me a scintilla of light.

For this pitch-dark sorrow's manor, a glowing grain to quell the night; Grant me eyes full of laughter and lips full of delight.

For this rapture and its yearning, grant me a dear beloved's sight, Indulge me with your greater love; grant me your gracious face's pride. For this being's withered garden, I seek a covenant of spring,

I don't ask you to grant me heaven; I'm not seeking Sinai's height.

Let this dream's very breath and time point to its own interpretation, Grant me the bosom of a fakir, and a heart with a shah's elation.

Search

In the summer noon, Like a winter night, A silence, A hush prevails. The doves' cooing, A meditative still; Time slackens, Planted in stirrups. The world heeds its heart,

Hearing judgment on death and life. A smile imbues the air Like someone hears the Rabab in sleep. And I alone Lost in thought Set out in search Of my longing - A lost, Helpless Sojourner Wandering Lying on the ground, I tread the sky. I too have lent my heart an ear, To find some purpose or scheme to life; Some cause for pain and death, And the grain of my conscious in eternity. Lost in the ocean Of how and why; Wine in the cup And in the wine, In the red book, From the mosque's niche, For death and life I seek a link. In mute Silence

Seek the sitar's plucking And rhythm's rules; In surrounding colors And blue pigeons I seek the answer to my life. I'm mad, I truly am I seek Plato in wine; When I turn my gaze to myself,

Death, Nothingness Is all I see.

I'm mad, I'm mad indeed; I seek life in death's gaze. In the summer noon, Like a winter night, A silence, A hush prevails.

Far away

A grain Of light

A star?

Or a distant desert fire Tells me In tiny sparkles - The hill is steep But a track leads over the top. What If life Is a lost Conscious Moment- It has a lasting Lover.

My heart, are you fooling yourself or me? How easily you ease out of this hassle!

O, my deceptive heart, How you engross and please me, But I will not hear you, Or I'll be lost, And really Go mad; Drown

In black waters of anguish Where I'm still afloat; Lose myself in dark fears.

Here I burn in my own flames Turning to dust in life, Sinking in my own blood.

In the summer noon, Like a winter night, A silence, A hush prevails.

Far away

A grain

Of light

A star, or a distant desert fire

Tells me in tiny sparkles - The hill is steep, but a track leads over the top. What if life is a lost conscious moment -

It has a lasting lover.

These are Pashto words, I translated them into English, if I made any mistake, I apologize in advance.