Fakhruddin 'Iraqi
Fakhruddin 'Iraqi
Fakhr al-Din Iraqi was a Persian Sufi poet of the 13th century. He is principally known for his mixed prose and poetry work, the Lama'at, as well as his divan, most of which were written in the form of a ghazal.
"Since we have quaffed the beaker of Thy love, we yield our hearts and make our Lives Thy ransom: since we come again into Thy street, we turn our backs on all that is, save Thee. Our souls are bound to serve Thee, though in grief, and we have died to selfhood! We are captives of Thy love and have not strength to flee. Thy beautys fever has lit a flame: shall not our hearts be burned?"
"Before this there was one heart but a thousand thoughts Now all is reduced to "There is no God but God."
"The magic spring that gives eternal Life, is in your own heart but you have blocked the flow."
"Beloved, I sought you here and there, asked for news of you from all I met; then saw you through myself and found we were identical. Now I blush to think I ever searched for signs of you."
"Know yourself: a cloud drifting before your sun. Cut yourself off from your senses and behold your sun of intimacy."
"By day I praised You but never knew it; by night slept with You without realising; fancying myself to be myself; but no, I was You and never knew it."
"It speaks to me in the silence of this one then through the words of that one speaking; it whispers to me through an eyebrow raised and the message of an eye winking."
"Expressions are many but Thy loveliness is one; Each of us refers to that single Beauty."
"I am Love: in heaven and earth I have no place; I am the Wondrous Phoenix whose spoor cannot be traced."
"Like the sun I brighten each atoms cheek; I cannot be pinpointed: I am too manifest. I speak with every tongue, listen with all ears, but marvel at this: My ears and tongue are erased. Since in all the world only I exist above and below, no likeness of me can be found."
"Love plays its lute behind the screen — where is a lover to listen to its tune?"
"The world has spilled Loves secret — when could music ever hold its tongue? Every atom babbles the mystery — Listen yourself, for Im no tattletale!"
