Love
In matters of love I had no will of my own —
Translated from Uzbek · Original text
In matters of love I had no will of my own —I could not keep my heart’s love locked away.I was forever drunk on the wine of love,I could not break free of madness’s chain.No one understood my words, no one,Neither the people of wisdom nor the people of gnosis.In this matter the ascetics are simply blind,Not ascetics, not those who bow, nor any of mankind.They blew away my mind and took my senses —The cruelty of love, the tyranny of the beloved.And the learned tripped me as I walked,The slanderers scattered the seeds of calumny.The hearts of the ignorant incline to corruption,Traitors will never know what love is.The “gnostics” who cry “Love!” meet with ruin,Their lying is always laid bare.My heart was left underfoot, abased and wretched,My soul sighed like a bird burning in the fire.Mind and senses, returning together to the ruin,Rejoiced, benevolent like a dream sent by the Merciful.Just as in loving there is no free will,I burned in the flame, crazed, a majnun.As though what I held in my palm were embers,I shed from my eyes so many hidden pearls.I am a captive in the hand of destiny, yet free,Content with my state — a slave, and happy.Never ask me how I am, how I fare,The pious do not understand the sinner.Beat your wings in the sky of asceticism,Drink your fill of water from the river of wisdom.But we, alas, in the bosom of selflessness,Find that simply to exist puts fear into the heart.Akrom MALIK
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