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By Hazrat Khawaja Usman Haruni (d. 1220)
Translated By Dr. Zahurul Hassan Sharib

I do not know why, at least, to have a longing look, I dance!
But I feel proud of the foundness that brfore the Friend, I dance!
You strike the musical instruments and lo! Every time , I dance!
In whatever way you cause me to dance, I abide o Firend, I dance!
Come, o Beloved! See the solemn spectacle that in the crowd of the intrepid and daring.
With a hundred probabilities of igominyand disgrace, in the hearrt of the market, I dance!
Blessed is the state of drunkeness that I trample underfoot a hundred pieties!
How fine and excellent the abstinence that with the robe and the turban, I Dance!
I am 'Uthman Haruni and a friend of shaykh Mansur.
The people rebuke and ridicule me and the gallows, I Dance!

Lover of Mine

By Hazrat Amir Khusraw (d 1325)
Translated By Dr. Zahurul Hassan Sharib

I said: 'What is bright like a moon?' He said: 'The cheek of Mine'.
I said: 'What is sweeter thana sugar?' He said: 'the talk of Mine'
I said: 'What of the ways of the lover?' He said: 'It should be faithfulness'
I said: 'Do not Show cruelty?'. He said: 'It is work of Mine'
I said: 'What is death for a lover?' He said: 'Pangs of My sepration'.
I said: 'What is cure for Life?' He said: 'The Sight of Mine'
I said: 'Are you spring of autumn?' He said: 'The envy of Beauty'.
I said: 'What puts swiftness to shame?' He said: 'The speed of Mine'.
I said: 'Are you a beautiful damsel or a fairy?' He said: 'I am king of the beautiful'.
I said: 'What of humble Khusraw?' He said: 'He is a lover of Mine'.

I Am Silent

By Hazrat Nasiruddin Chiragh Delhvi (d 1356)
Translated By Dr. Zahurul Hassan Sharib

I am busy and I am idle, Like the head of the account, lurking within,
I speak and I am silient, like the word, the book has in.
O, you the pious! Seeing the outer things only, what do you know of nearness?
He is in Me and I am in Him, like the smell, the rose flower has within.
Sometimes happy and sometimes sorry and of my own condition unmindful,
I sweep and I laugh, like and infant seized by sleep from within.
In the heart of Nasiruddin nothing can be contained except love,
See the strange spectacle of the river surging, the bubble in.