Thorns in Bloom

One. Why do you wander to gardens in vain,
when your heart itself is a flowering grove!
Enter that forest, fill your basket there—
you'll surely find His presence, His love!

Two. Dear poet-sir,
if you'd write just two lines
about the evils drink can bring,
surely everyone would heed their warning!

Dear publisher,
what's the fuss in this!
Sit down, I'm writing this instant;
just let me gulp down a glass first!

Three. War and revolt together have slain countless souls;
man has pride, alas, but no sense at all!

They've died of disease, died of grief;
accident or calamity—these too have killed;
some die when age comes,
some die when time comes—
infants die right after birth, sometimes mothers too.

Yet alas, the greatest killer of all—
is nothing but the sidelong glance of a woman's eyes!

Four. Tune your strings to the highest scale,
pitch your melody even higher still;
if you would sing, then sing like one possessed—
sing the song that dwells within your will.

Moonlight, evening breeze,
the sapphire sea, the boundless sky—
playing games with dust and these
will never satisfy your longing anymore.

Let the deep sound of your heart's voice
rise and leave this earth behind;
let the Lord of worlds be shaken,
let your soul-image awaken in your mind.

Climb still higher on those strings,
strike consciousness itself upon your lyre;
then the world will fall to silence,
and God Himself will descend like fire.

Five. If you send storms across life's sky,
give me strength to quell their rage;
if you drag me to sorrow's ocean,
give me devotion to cross that stage.

If you take me to danger's house,
break apart my every fear;
if you leave me utterly empty,
don't make me shelterless here.

If you gave this heart of mine—
your own infinite gift—
may life bloom even when death comes,
may it never lose its drift.

Six. Today my heart has lost itself
in the southern wind's caress;
in the fleeting glance
of that half-opened bud's tenderness!

What is it that this heart of mine desires,
I cannot fathom even myself!

Where has my heart wandered off today
in what song's sweet embrace?
What honeyed call rang out today
in the southern wind's grace?

Seven. O beloved, if you must go,
then go, I have no grief.
But as you leave,
keep this one plea—
what drew you close to me,
what made you push away...
sing that song just once!

Eight. Seeing the parrot bound in iron chains,
the myna in her golden cage speaks in pain,
"Looking at you, brother,
fills my heart with such sorrow.
I long to break and throw away your fetters."

Hearing the myna's words, the parrot laughed,
and spoke to her in gentle, quiet craft,
"Before that, if you can,
leave your own prison span.
Free yourself first, then unlock my fetters."

Nine. You think with countless tricks you can deceive me to lose!
I know with countless tricks I make you lose to me!

You don't win, I don't win either...only our hearts win.

Ten. Said the green leaf,
swelling with pride,
"O lifeless stem,
what use are you?"

The stem laughed and said,
"Your bravado
will end right now—
if I should die."

Eleven. It's not just her bewitching beauty alone
that troubles my thoughts;
that I am worthless in her eyes—
this thought disturbs my heart!

Twelve. A rose might lose its fragrance,
the moon's glory might fade in light's decay,
a lover might forget love's fierce command—
if love is true, this can never be the way.

Thirteen. You worship with pomp, your life spent in vain,
your mind lost in meditation on fleeting things.

The outer forms that decay each moment,
whatever revolves changes day by day.

Wandering here and there, you'll find no peace,
even roaming the whole world brings no rest.

The world holds countless forms, but the soul is one,
what we see outside gives birth to varied consciousness.

Worship this and that, and see—there's danger of harm,
in the impregnable fortress of the 'One' lies the wise one's eternal shelter.

Fourteen. A heart that knows no pain of love
is not a heart at all!
The body of one without love
becomes just a lump of clay.

Become love's prisoner, if you wish to be free;
take all of love's burdens to your chest.
Let passion come to life in love's wine,
all else is tainted by self-interest, brings only fatigue.
Don't turn that beautiful face away from love—
love is truth, in love alone you'll find God's trail.

Fifteen. When the river was far away,
it played and leaped in its own mind,
circling within its own bounds.
It never crossed its thoughts
that it would come to merge
in the vast one's breast,
dissolve into the sea.
When that day truly came,
all its pride vanished
seeing the vast one's face.

Sixteen. My heart just won't obey me.
This conflict between my heart and soul—
no one knows this at all.

When I play with my own mind,
when I walk the judicious path,
my soul's demands get trampled down;
my heart doesn't care for my soul's news.

My soul says, I love you,
yet your garland has grown stale,
my heart says, that's a noose around the neck;
that's why you never felt love's touch.

I know you recognize me,
that recognition will preserve me in nectar,
beside you in your love's verses;
let my soul's story remain unknown.

Seventeen. Greed says, "Anger, you're not good at all,
how you kindle envy's fire across the world!"
"You're equally guilty of that same fault,"
laughs Anger, "there's no mistake in that."

Eighteen. Those who gaze toward distant shores,
what excuse shall I give them,—
when evening birds will sing
finish your work, see how night has come?

Nineteen. What will come of staying in this world, alas,
if in this life I cannot find you?

I live in hope of finding you,
how can I leave this world behind?