When I wash the soles of my feet
They become white.

I have no bowl
I receive
with my hands.

Do not count me among good people. I know what I am. Do not entertain good thoughts of me. I am a prisoner of my treacherous passions and am full of sin. This is no lie. I know what I am.
I do not tread the path of pride. I repeat this to myself again and again. I am bad and my actions are evil and I know what I am.
If people praise me, O Shirin, I am not transported with joy. Hidden from all eyes, alone by myself, I know what I am.

I keep asking
how deep
the snow's gotten.

The little knife —
sharpening pencils with it,
peeling pears.

Amid a jumble of
tanka books, haiku books —
noonday nap.

Hands so cold
I can't work the writing brush —
Nearing midnight.

I, Lalla, wearied myself seeking for him and searching.
I laboured and strove even beyond my strength.
I began to look for him, and lo, I saw that bolts were on his door:
And even in me, as I was, did longing for him, become fixed;
And there, where I was, I gazed upon Him.

M ANKUMARI

I seek the lofty heart of the great. Give me not treasure of pearls and jewels, O God. I desire not dominion in this world, nor honour. If I gain the heart I desire, I will pour out my life, worthless though it be, and will beg manhood, the greatest thing of all. I worship a heart, a heart worthy of worship.

Without seeing thy face we have given thee a place in our own eye, like the pupil.
I have only heard thy name and I love thee. I have not seen thee, and yet I love thee as if I had seen and known thee.
The light of the face of the sun is tossing about (is glancing to and fro). Why? Because it has been wounded by the sword of our angry eye.
Beware, O Shiring. Be not forward in treading the path of love. Have you never heard what befell Farhad?