Where is the bazaar?
I want to buy a whole eyeful of kindness.
I want my soul
To wear a dress of ecstasy's silk.
There is a merchant
Bringing me a whole crazed spectrum of joy's colors
From the city of desires.
But here, here at the bazaar, here at the bazaar of Khojand,
Faces are sour and talk beats down like the sun,
And I ache for cool Tabrizi sweets.
Where is the bazaar?
A flute-player tells me:
Come by with ears used to naught but the sounds of scorn,
And listen to the light reciting Yā-sīn to the dark
Open your eyes used to naught but the shades of shame,
And behold truth's beauty.
Where is the bazaar?
The flute-player is there
Calling my heart with his voice
Calling my heart to his hat, full of loose change but not one pearl.
I am a tear's j**el.
I must go.