In the dim light of twilight, the words of Amir Khusro—renowned as the Parrot of India—echo with the mystery of Sufi longing. His verses, rich with allegory and passion, invite us into a realm where beauty and pain merge, where every glance, every tear, speaks of a love so intense it defies ordinary expression. The following ghazal is one such jewel—a tapestry woven from desire, surrender, and the ineffable magic of love.
Below, I present the original Persian text followed by an English translation. May these lines carry you gently into Khusro’s world, where the heart speaks in secret tongues and every sorrow is exalted as divine.
The Original Ghazal (in Persian)
چه بلاست از دو چشمت نظر نیاز کردن
مژه را گشاد دادن، در فتنه باز کردن
چو کمال صنع بی چون ز جمال تست پیدا
نتوان حدیث عشقت ز ره مجاز کردن
همه خواب مردمان شد به دو دیده تلخ، یارب
ز کجات گشت شیرین حرکات ناز کردن
چه خوش است باد خلوت که دهد سرشک خونین
ز خراش دل گواهی به زبان راز کردن
دل پر ز خون و با تو نزنم دمی که نتوان
به حضور نازنینان غم دل دراز کردن
تو بخسپ خوش که ما را ز غمش چو شمع خو شد
همه روز زنده بودن، همه شب گداز کردن
به جفات دل نهادم، بکن آنچه می توانی
چه کنم نمی توانم ز تو احتراز کردن
به هوس فدا کنم جان به درت که نیست عاوی
پسر سبکتگین را هوس ایاز کردن
صف عاشقانست اینجا، مده، ای فقیه، زحمت
که به شهر بت پرستان نتوان نماز کردن
چه بود متاع خسرو که کند نثار جانان
مگسی چه طمع راند به دهان باز کردن؟
An English Translation
What torment it is to crave the glance of your eyes,
To unfurl your lashes wide—stirring seduction’s fire.
When your beauty, the perfect work of art, appears unrivaled,
No mere metaphor can recount the tale of your love.
All mortals now slumber with bitter, heavy eyes, O Lord,
Since from your presence emerge sweet, playful gestures.
How delightful the quiet breeze that gifts a blood-tinted tear,
A scar on the heart bearing secret words in its silent tongue.
My heart, awash in crimson, dares not rebel against you for a moment,
Lest, before the beloved assembly, my grief be laid bare.
Show mercy, for his sorrow has transformed us into burning candles—
Alive each day, yet melting away each night in its gentle blaze.
I have surrendered my heart to your relentless hardship;
Do as you must, for I cannot refrain from your call.
I would sacrifice my very life at your threshold, for nothing compares;
Even the delicate offspring of your form is enchanted by a fabled name.
Here stands the line of lovers—spare us, O jurist, the strain
Of praying in a city where idols outnumber true devotion.
What treasure was it that Khusro offered to his beloved so selflessly,
If not that even a greedy fly dares to part its lips in desire?
Reflections on the Verses
Each couplet unfolds like a whispered secret from the heart of a mystic. Khusro’s words explore the paradox of desire—how the beauty of a single glance can both uplift and wound, how surrender to love transforms us into delicate flames burning through life. In his verses, pain and passion intermingle: the ache of unfulfilled longing is as sublime as the tender play of a lover’s gestures.
This ghazal is not merely a song of love but a meditation on the nature of existence itself. It challenges us to see beauty in suffering, to understand that in the quest for the beloved—whether human or divine—the heart is set ablaze, and in that fire, we discover our truest selves.
Amir Khusro’s legacy endures in these immortal lines—a reminder that even centuries later, the language of the heart remains both mysterious and universal.
Feel free to share your thoughts or your own translations in the comments below. Let us together celebrate the magic of Khusro’s poetry, where every word is a bridge to the divine.
