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Love |
As yet the tresses of the bride of night were not familiar with their graceful curls;
And the stars of heaven had tasted not the bliss of whistling motion through the depths of space. |
The moon in her new robes looked rather strange
And knew not revolution’s ceaseless law. |
From the dark house of possibilities the world had just emerged to spin along,
No joy of life had throbbed as yet within the furthest limits of immensity. |
The order of existence scarcely had begun unfolding to perfectionment;
It seems as if the world, like a ring whose socket waiteth for its precious stone, longed to evolve the archetypes to come. |
They say there was an alchemist on high,
Dust of whose footsteps sparkled even more than Jamshid’s crystal cup.[1] |
And on the pedestal of heaven there was engraved Elixir’s wondrous recipe,
Which angels always guarded from the ken of Adam’s soul destined by it to live. |
The alchemist was ever on the watch
Knowing this recipe more precious than the Great Name itself. |
Till seemingly saying his orisons, he nearer drew
And gained the strictly guarded pedestal, his constant effort yielding in the end the fruit of his desire for which he burned. |
And having learnt it, he went forth to seek through the vast field of possibilities for its ingredients and collected them;
Yea! what is there that can be hid from those who know the halls where truth for ever dwells. |
From stars he took their brightness; from the moon the marks of burnt-out passions of the past;
And from night’s floating and dishevelled tresses a little darkness; |
From the lightning he received its restlessness; and purity from houris;
And the gentle warmth that runs rippling from healing breath of Mary’s son. |
Then from the quality of Providence he took that splendour which dependeth not on aught else than itself,
And from the dew and angels took he their humility. |
Then in the waters of the spring of life he made them to dissolve;
And from the Throne of Most High they called this essence “Love.” |
That alchemist sprinkled this liquid on the new sprouting being,
And its magic touch released the spell-bound process of the worlds. |
Motion appeared in atoms; forthwith they abandoned their repose,
And roused themselves embracing their affinities again. |
The suns and stars rolled in majestic curves,
The buds received fresh tints, and poppy flowers were branded with the burning marks of Love. |
Translated by: Umrao Singh Sher Gil |
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