Ever since I saw the Beloved’s face,
its lines have etched themselves on my heart.
I still nurse the wound of separation within me —
it has left me broken.
Flowing tresses may be a snare and a net:
those are pagan tresses
whose lure, like the bulbul, has sprung from the head,
bogged in the heart.
When ego is erased, duality disappears:
God’s lover is himself God.
This is the heart’s only home —
the heart in the lover, the lover in the heart.
O Seeker, you make a show of public worship,
then claim your share of desires.
The true lover carries within him, in secret,
the name of God.
Strange are the ways of the enlightened ones.
They weep and laugh in one breath,
scorn on the lip, grace in the heart,
profanity on the tongue, praise in the heart.
Some say God dwells in the temple,
others put him in the mosque.
What do you seek abroad, ignorant one?
Realize, oh Huma, God is within you.