TIDE POPPY LAMPS*

Dr Muhammad Yusuf 'Abbasi

The poppies lit their lamps,

On the desert brow;

Minstrels of the air,

In their plumage fair,

Burst into song,

And so stir my heart,

That I like to take part,

In their musical throng.

The flowers like fairies stand,

In prismatic rows,

Reds, yellows, and blues;

Gay flags!

Of magic hues,

Fluttering in the spring morn,

And the dew drops,

Like the pearl spray,

In their crystal glory,

Shine in every ray;

Liquid diamonds glisten,

On green leaves,

On jaded eaves,

Of the rolling desert.

This flower carpet,

This gorgeous array,

In the desert,

This poppy-lit expanse,

Is the Nature's display,

Fairer than the urban medley.

Such is the realm of mind,

In it I did ever find,

The secret of life,

By your own,

If you can't be mine.

The world of the Self,

In spirit is love,

And zest in style;

The world of the pelf,

Lying, lust and guile.

The wealth of mind,

A sun of light,

A lasting joy;

But the wealth in gold,

A shiny blight,

All tinsel and toy.

The Self shall ever remain,

A free domain,

Of truth and light,

As there doesn't reign,

Any king or priest.

How could I be the same,

Either in spirit or frame,

If I ever bowed,

Before anyone,

Except Him,

Like Whom there is none.