Al-Shira bright above, so still, and still it moves.
Fixed in the firmament, in place until it moves.
A star-flecked sky in winter, cold above the stream.
Al-Shira is reflected in the rill. It moves.
The sky wheel cycles, grinding fine the centuries.
My little life’s ground on it as the mill it moves.
I longed for you, Al-Shira, when the skies were cold.
The coldest nights I’ve known, but now the chill it moves.
I sought to end my longing, wracked and desolate.
Take up the bow, loose arrows toward the kill: it moves.
Our road, Al-Shira, climbed into the winter sky.
The heights we won, and now our path downhill it moves.
The sky burst open. My heart fell upon the earth.
Run to it now, and claim it if you will. It moves.
Ah! Ghazal.
Pronounced, according to my beloved Agha Shahid Ali, with a guttural HUZZle. It means ‘pillow talk,’ essentially, he always said. Romantic poems in this very un-western intentionally discontinuous weave of un-enjambed couplets with strict scheme and unending possibility.
In other words: hooray for huzzles!
And dog stars, lights in darkness.
Beautiful poem, Chris.
Thanks, Tmorph.
lovely poem Chris.
ghazal and the sufi mystics…rememberance of my years travelling in Pakistan and South Asia where my Al-Shira faded away.
Moving move to another part of the world where I can resume exploring the ways of the mystics…sufi and kaballists
ghazal “pillow talk” for some…“speaking with women” for others.
Here is for you one of my favourite ghazal:
I said I long for thee
You said your sorrows will end.
Be my moon, rise up for me
Only if it will ascend.
I said, from lovers learn
How with compassion burn
Beauties, you said in return
Such common tricks transcend.
Your visions, I will oppose
My mind’s paths, I will close
You said, this night-farer knows
Another way will descend.
With the fragrance of your hair
I’m lost in my world’s affair
You said, if you care, you dare
On its guidance can depend.
I said hail to that fresh air
That the morning breeze may share
Cool is that breeze, you declare
With beloved’s air may blend.
I said, your sweet and red wine
Granted no wishes of mine
You said, in service define
Your life, and your time spend.
I said, when will your kind heart
Thoughts of friendship start?
Said, speak not of this art
Until it’s time for that trend.
I said, happiness and joy
Passing time will destroy.
Said, Hafez, silence employ
Sorrows too will end my friend.
Hafez (who had two addictions…red wine and love…)
...go figure! ;-)