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These false prophets Were never disciples themselves, But they contrive to make disciples of others. As an act of seeming benefaction, But they swindle their disciples Of their money and belongings; They fear not the wrath of God, Crooked in their ways, they lose their footing. In the slippery game of outward love, Say Bahu: They will regret their doings on the day of judgement


Accursed is life in this world; Twice as accursed are they who are attached to it. Those who have not dedicated their lives to God, Shall suffer the unrelenting blows of destiny. Abominable is this sly world – It can even prompt a father to kill his own son. Those who have renounced this world, Will enjoy the delights of the garden That is eternally in bloom.


I have, at last, grasped the beginning and the end: I have seen the whole sectacle of past, present and future Pass before my eyes. Within my heart are fourteen realms, Chambers of light – ablaze With the profusion of God’s light. Those who have not realized God will wander, Homeless in this world, destitute in the next. But watch the lovers dance with ecstasy, As they merge into the oneness of God.


Their eyes sleepless, their faces pale, Lovers constantly sigh in grief. What has become of these faces, That once beamed with youth and vivacity? Love is like musk that cannot stay hidden: Its fragrance cannot but reveal its presence. Only those who abide in realms beyond space, Deserve to be called ‘faqir’, O Bahu.


When the one Lord revealed himself to me, I lost myself in him. Now there is neither nearness nor union. There is no longer a journey to undertake, No longer a destination to reach. Love attachment, my body and soul, And even the very limits of time and space Have all dropped from my consciousness. My separate self has merged in the Whole: In that, O Bahu, lies the secret of the unity that is God!


When, at the time of Creation, God separated me from himself, I heard him say: “Am I not your God?” “Indeed you are,” cried my soul, reassured. Since then has my heart flowered. With the inner urge to return Home, Giving me not a moment of calm here on earth. May doom strike this world! It robs souls on their way to God. The world has never accepted his lovers; They are persecuted and left to cry in pain.


My master has sown in my heart, The jasmine of God’s Name. He has taught me how to captivate, The heart of my charming Beloved. He keeps me in his thoughts eternally, He always makes me do his will. He himself grants me his wisdom, O Bahu, He himself moulds me into his own real Self.


My Master(Spiritual Guide) has planted in my heart, The jasmine of Allah’s Name. Both my denial that the Creation is real And my embracing of God, the only reality, Have nourished the seedling down to its core. When the buds of mystery unfolded Into the blossoms of revelation, My entire being was filled with God’s Fragrance. May the perfect Master Who planted this jasmine in my heart, Be ever blessed, O Bahu!


The moment I realized the oneness of God, the flame of his love shone within, to lead me on. Constantly it burns in my heart with intense heat, Revealing the mysteries along my path. This fire of love burns inside me with no smoke, Fueled by my intense longing for the Beloved. Following the Royal Vein,* I found the Lord close by. My love has brought me face to face with him.


You have read the name of God over and over, You have stored the holy Qur’an in your memory, But this has still not unveiled the hidden mystery. Instead, your learning and scholarship, Have sharpened your greed for worldly things. None of the countless books you’ve read in your life, Has destroyed your brutal ego. Indeed, none but the Saints can kill this inner thief, For it ravages the very house in which it lives.


Hu is within, Hu is without, Hu pervades everything; Where then is Bahu to find Hu? He has wounded his own heart, He has tortured his own soul. With austerities of all manner, With worship of all kinds, Having read millions of books. He has also come to be called ‘wise’, But the name ‘faqir’ befits only him, O Bahu, Whose very grave breathes life!


Within me resounds the melody of Kalma, The melody that love has taught me to hear. Why don’t you put away your books, And forget that you have learnt from them – For within the Kalma you will find The fourteen inner realms. Scholars sharpen reeds into pens, But they are not capable of writing the true Kalma. This Kalma has rid me of all afflictions Of the body and mind – Only a Master could have taught it to me, O Bahu.


I offer my prayer in the temple of my heart – The only true place to worship God. I stand in supplication, I bow in obeisance, I tender my prayer without break in its repetition. Hanging between life and death, My heart burns in the fire of separation from him. The path indicated by the Prophet is true, O Bahu: Following it one can find God


Hu is within, Hu is without, Hu always reverberates in my heart. The wound in my heart aches constantly, With the unabating pain of Hu’s love. The darkness of ignorance departs, From the heart lit by Hu. I sacrifice myself to the one, O Bahu, Who has realized the significance of Hu.


This body, this desolate wilderness, In which the soul has come to lodge, Is a rapidly crumbling bank of the river of time. It will collapse – tomorrow, if not today. Lodged on the edge of such a shore, How can a traveller sleep in peace? For where sand and water meet, No embankment can hold, O Bahu.


Believers pray to God for the protection of faith, But few pray for the gift of his love. I am ashamed at what they ask for, Even more at what they are willing to yield. Religion is quite unaware of the spiritual plane, To which love can raise us. O Lord, keep my love for you ever fresh, Says Bahu: I shall mortgage my religion for it.


This body is the temple of the true Lord; Peep within it, hermit! You need no help from Khwaja Khizr: * The water of life is already within you. Light the lamp of love in your heart, To dispel the darkness within And discover the long-lost treasure. Those who realize the secret of God, Die before death [and find everlasting life]. * (Hazrat Khwaja Khizr is said to have drunk aabe hayaat, the water of life, and to know the secret of the pool of nectar).


This body is a temple of the true Lord, In which fragrant gardens abound With eternally fresh blossoms. Inside are the prayer mats, the places for prostration, And the means for ritual ablution. Inside is the Ka’ba and the Qibla, And here I cry out to Allah, the one without parallel. O Bahu, I have found the perfect Master, Who will guide and protect me within.


Were my whole body festooned with eyes, I would gaze at my Master with untiring zeal. O, how I wish that every pore of my body, Would turn into a million eyes – Then, as some closed to blink, others would open to see! But even then my thirst to see him, Might remain unquestioned. What else am I to do? To me, O Bahu, a glimpse of my Master, Is worth millions of pilgrimages to the holy Ka’ba!


If you don’t have the Master’s presence within, You will not attain acceptance in God’s court, Useless is all prayer, futile is all chanting. You can fast, you can pray the whole night through, To supplement your daily prayer; You can also perform numerous acts of charity; But if your heart is not purified, You will not feel God’s presence within. If you have not died before your death, chanting in group prayers will avail you nothing.


The garden of my heart has so blossomed, That it puts the charming narcissus to shame. Manifested within me is the holy Ka’ba; Blessed with the purity of love, my heart rejoices. I circle the inner Ka’ba with fervent love; In ardent devotion I yearn For the blessing of my Beloved’s presence. The veil is now lifted, my pilgrimage is complete, In his mercy, O Bahu, lies the way to remission.


I went to holy Baghdad to trade my soul, For a grain of my Master’s wisdom. I bore a heavy load of sorrows. My burden was great, my destination far, But I arrived at last! When I perceived the essence of the Lord, As distinct from his qualities, My heart was illuminated With the splendor of his countenance.


I was bound and flung down: Banished from heaven, dumped on earth, Bound by the dictates of my destiny, I was exiled into this alien land. Off with you, sly world, aggravate me no more, I am already in anguish. I am a stranger, my home is very far away, And my situation worsens With every breath I draw here.


The irreverent know not the manners of love; Bereft of love will they depart from here. Earthen vessels are inherently coarse- They can never shine like those of glass!* Those born as villains Can never become lovers of the Lord. The heart that does not pine for the divine presence, Will remain destitute in both worlds, O Bahu. * (A lover’s heart is transparent to God’s love, as a glass jar is to light. The heart of an infidel, on the other hand, is like a pitcher of clay that is always dark wit


Throughly blacken the face of priestly wisdom, And dump it in the sewer. The kalma has adorned you like a diamond necklace – Let that accursed religion mind its own business! The Kalma has manifested itself within me; The fear of death is now banished from my heart. It was my Master, O Bahu, who gave me to drink, From the cup that held the water of life.


They learned ‘everything’ and became great scholars, But few learned the lesson of Alif.* Those who learned ‘everything’ never found the One, Those who learned the lesson of Oneness Found the essence of ‘everything’ All fourteen realms are lit up with God’s radiance, But the blind perceive nothing. If union is not attained with the Lord, O Bahu, All learning is mere theory – A mere fable that disappears into smoke.


The city of Baghdad is graced* With tall, elegant cypresses, My fond memories of that fair city. Tear my heart to shreds, Like waste cloth in a tailor’s shop. Wearing a cloak made with these shreds, I will join the beggars in the lanes of Baghdad. And beg for alms, calling out: “O Meeran, Meeran, my beloved Master!”


Of all sinners I am indeed the most sinful, But in my Lord’s protection lies my honour. In this world the learned are filled with satanic pride, But they are robbed and maligned in the world beyond. Millions fear the torment of hell, But lovers turn their backs even on paradise.* A lover’s throat is always under the knife, Bahu, But at the alter of the Friend He rejoices in being a sacrifice.


My cloak is now worn out and tattered; How long will the tailor keep mending it? I met no one who really knew the inner secret; They were all lacking, they were all selfish. None by my gracious Master Resolved the inner mystery. Let us advance on the very path, O Bahu, On which the multitude fears to tread.


The pure are never contaminated, Even while they live in this polluted world. A tide of love has surged in the ocean of Unity, But those who have not prepared themselves Cannot open their hearts to it. Some merge with the Beloved’s form In the idol house [of their hearts],* While others pore over scriptures in mosques, Gaining nothing. Scholars renounce their ‘superior’ learning, O Bahu, when they learn the prayer of love.


The scholar is proud of his learning, The hafiz thrives on self-promotion.* With books under their arms, They go around, selling their honor. Wherever they find a promising household, They read the scripture in loud, fervent strains for a lucrative commission. O Bahu! They have put God’s name on sale Just to make a living, In this world they live spiritually bankrupt; Stripped of all honor, they go to the one beyond.


They think they have acquired great learning; They call themselves sheikhs. While they perform much outside worship. They do not know the manner in which temptation, Like a thief, enters to ravage their hearts. The soul that has attached herself to God Is forever at peace – The smoke screen of illusion is lifted from her eyes. Only they realize God, O Bahu, Whose hearts the world has not seduced.


Priests and scholars parade their learning To please the kings – Of what avail is such erudition? Reading scriptures is like boiling curdled milk, In the false hope of obtaining butter. No more profitable to them is their chanting, Than is chirping to the mimicking chandoor.* If you bring inner comfort to a heart in distress, You will earn the merit of years of worship.


You acquired learning, your pride swelled, And your mind took a downward course. You strayed from the path of living guidance – Neither your learning, nor your pride did you any good. If you gain the inner secret by selling off your head* You will not be the loser in the deal. But when you enter the marketplace of love, Be sure to have a Guide who knows this inner secret.


They have read thousands of books, They have come to be known as great scholars. But the one word, ‘love’, they could not grasp – So helplessly they wander in delusion. Vast is the gulf between love and intellect. Those who have not purchased love, In the marketplace of this life, O Bahu, Will always be losers in this world and the next.


Within me are five great mansions- All five brightly lit; What need have I of another lamp? I am no longer accountable To the five lords and tax collectors, Who barricade the inner path. Five prayer leaders call the faithful To the five mosques within, What need have I of another mosque? IF the Lord calls for your head, O Bahu, do not hesitate; offer it at once.


If a master does not end your pain of separation, He is not even worth calling a Master. Who would even need the kind of Master, Who does not bestow spiritual blessing? Why even go to the kind of teacher, Who is incapable of giving proper instruction? If you can reach God by sacrificing your head, Be not afraid of that death, O Bahu!


You wil be able to renounce the world, Only when you find the treasure of devotion. True renunciation will only occur When you beg for the Lord’s grace, In the begging bowl of your heart. Deep have I drunk from the ocean of Oneness, Yet my soul always thirsts for more. Only tears of blood can pave the way to God; O Bahu, none but the ignorant will take this lightly.


A seeker can quickly become a Saint, When he loses himself in love: His self becomes subdued and friendly; His heart becomes refined and transparent, As he sacrificed his self to the Beloved. One must, hence, shake off the load of ego- Of life itself-for without dying in love. The goal of life cannot be attained! Countless other means have I tried and failed.


You have been counting your rosary beads, But your heart hasn’t taken a turn for the better. What can anyone gain from such a practice? You acquired knowledge by reading scriptures, But you didn’t submit yourself to their mandate, What can anyone gain from such knowledge? You secluded yourself for forty-day retreats, But that too did you no good You may keep boiling milk forever, O Bahu, But unless it is cultured, it will not yield the essence.


You have become an expert in counting beads; You conduct yourself with an air of piety. A hundred-bead rosary circles your neck, But you have failed to count The one bead of your heart! When it comes to giving, you feel strangled; When taking, you grab like a lion. On the hearts that are hard like stone, O Bahu, rainfall is a wasted offering.


Build the ship of faith and bravely sail across, Do not mind the pain that results in happiness. Inscribe on the tablet of your heart, The writ of the holy Qur’an: “From suffering comes ease and comfort.” Absolute is the Lord – he is accountable to none. O Bahu, let us offer him his due, Through prayer and the tears of penitence.


For my friend I made my body into a city, Where I built for him a special home in my heart. When the one Lord took abode in it, I was blessed with profound peace. I now hear his Voice echoing in everything, Even in voices other than his own.* Only those who suffer the pangs of love, Can realize this divine secret; Others will be rebuffed from the Lord’s court.


The saddle may be old, it’s girth worn, But an Arabian horse will not go unnoticed.* With the beat of a drum has entered my heart,** And look! What a wondrous game he has played: My heart was stirred to its very depth, When I looked into his gracious eyes. Ask not the fate of those, O Bahu, Who could not earn the pleasure of the beloved Friend.


You may or may not wake up now, O faqir; But you will wake up to reality in the end. Your heart will not awaken, By merely sitting with eyes closed- It will awaken when you realize the goal, When I attained my ultimate objective, I proclaimed it to the world. But on my own I would have still been lost, O Bahu, Were it not for my Master showing me the way.


Be steadfast in your faith, bold in your step; Only then will you find God. Every pore of your body will repeat the Name of Allah, With every breath of your life. Both within yourself and without You will then hear the reverberating strains of Hu. Only they may be called faqirs, O Bahu, Whose very graves breathe Life.


They alone are blessed with true love, Who have sacrificed their all for their Beloved. They may not be Sufis nor be Safis; They may not prostrate themselves in temples. Those who are dyed deep in the indigo of religion, Will never accept the crimson of God’s love: Priests are stuck in rituals, O Bahu; They have never learned to prostrate themselves in love.


I prayed standing in water; I roamed the forests in search of God, But I failed to ascertain that ‘one thing’. I went on pilgrimage to Mecca, But I could not stop the wondering of my mind. I fasted for thiry days, I spent myself Offering prayers five times a day. But all I had longed for was fulfilled, O Bahu, When my Master cast his merciful glance on me.


A heart that fails To experience the presence of the divine, Will continue to be poorly evolved, O Bahu! But when the Essence is freed from its attributes, The presence of God becomes evident. Then Hu resounds within and without; No trace of Bahu can be found- he is lost in Hu! No one who entertains love of the world, Can ever become a faqir.


As long as you proudly pamper your ego, You will not realize God. You call yourself a faqir, Yet you don’t even know how to dissolve your self in God! If you don’t kill your self first, The clock of piety you wear will never suit you. The name ‘faqir’ will benefit you, O Bahu, Only when you die while you are still alive.


In the court of the Lord, an ounce of love, Weighs more than tons of religios faith. Reading of scriptures, worship and rituals, Are all barren and fruitless practise. Without a Master nothing will be achieved, Even if you read your own prayers the whole night long. Only if you die before your death, O Bahu, Will you attain God.


Ever since my Master gave me, To drink from his cup of nectar, I have become carefree-indifferent to the world. If a Master has not initiated you into God’s mystery, Keeping awake to pray at night will avail you nothing. All night you spend in prayer and worship, All day you indulge in slanderous talk. The power and authority of the world is false, O Bahu! True is the sovereignty of the faqir!


Love flourishes in that heart, In which glows the Name of God. The love of God is like the fragrance of musk – Even a thousand wrappings cannot hold it in; Or like the sun, which cannot be hid behind one’s fingers, Or like a river that cannot be stopped in its course. My Friend is in me, in my Friend am I; There is no distance left between us.


Like a lion that kills in the forest, And a hawk that preys in the farmland. Love destroys all impurites of the heart, Better than a goldsmith can purify gold. Lovers are always awake – They are free from appetites of the flesh, And they have conquered death. But only those lovers are truly alive, O Bahu, Who offer their heads at the altar of God.


Those who have found the Lord, Through their contemplation on Alif, Do not read the holy Qur’an. They live by the love of God, As the veil of ignorance is lifted from their eyes. Even heaven and hell wait on them, Becoming their very slaves. I sacrifice myself to those, O Bahu, Who merge themselves in the oneness of God.


Those who are blessed with God’s love, Utter not a word about their condition. Absorbed in his love, they dedicate Every breath of their lives, To remembrance and contemplation of him. Their minds, hearts, bodies and souls, Are all engaged in the inner mystic practice. I sacrifice myself to those Masters, O Bahu, Who, with but one glance, Infuse life into dead hearts.


Someone who is chaste by does not love the Lord, Is pollutred in both mind and spirit. Some achieve union in the idol house [of their hearts], While others continue to be isolated in the mosque.* Only those who radily offer their heads, To the alter of God win the game of love. Those who have not sacrificed their all for the Friend, Will never meet him, O Bahu!


What the heart desires it does not find; Far distant remains its fulfillment: The Friend does not dispense the balm for my heart; The heart suffers but love does not accede, While in the arena of love, rages the fire of longing! I sacrifice myself to anyone, O Bahu, who, Having once stepped on to the path of love, Always moves ahead.


My Master taught me a lesson: “Any moment you are negligent in remembrance of God is a moment spent in denial of God.” These words opened my eyes to reality, And I fixed my attention on the Lord. I then placed my soul in his protection- Such was the love I cultivated in my heart. Having thus bequeathed my soul to him, I died before death – to live in him. Only then did I attain the goal of life, O Bahu!


If you desire to attain the oneness of God, Submit yourself at the Master’s feet. When the Master casts his merciful glance on you, The buds of mystery will unfold Into the blossoms of revelation. Among them will be the scarlet poppy* In whose delicate petals will shine a subtle mystery. Those divided in their loyalties, half-hearted in their approach Will be deprived in both the worlds, O Bahu.


If God could be found by bathing in holy waters, Frogs and fish would find him. If God were realized by cutting off your hair, Sheep and goats, which are shorn for their wool, Would realize him too. If God were found through nightly vigils, bats and owls would find him. If God could be found through calibacy, Castrated bulls should also discover him. God is realized by those, O Bahu, Who are pure of heart, noble of intent.


One who has grasped the meaning of Alif, Need not proceed to read the chapter of bey* One who has obtained the true Name of God Will discard the names that simply describe him. He does not feed and pamper the cruel dog of his ego. They are free of all care, O Bahu, Who have the Master in their home To fashion the ornament of their soul.


Ill-starred is the heart That has not struck the bargain of love. My timeless Teacher has insribed this lesson On the tablet of my heart: “Be not vain when you taste success; make no complaint when times prove hard. Learn the lesson of oneness and merge in God, O Bahu- The lesson only a living Master can teach.”


Ever since I correctly bowed my head* At your doorstep, O Lord, I have dedicated my life to your court – I have sought no other court since. Once you have drunk from the cup of love, You would rather part with your head. Than the secret of your heart, O Bahu, I make myself a sacrifice to anyone Who has preserved God’s love with his life.


How can the living know the plight of the dead? He alone knows who himself has died! The grave provides no food, no drink, No provisions for the new home.* To one’s separation from paretns and relatives There is the added torment of the grave. How fortunate is he, O Bahu, Who can die while still alive!


The heart that has not struck the bargain of love Remains bereft of the pain of longing. A stone is better than the heart That is stuck in the mire of apathy. The heart that does not seek God’s loving presence Will be cast out of his courst. You cannot find the Friend, O Bahu, If you have not sacrificed your all for him.


If you wish to learn the art of dying while living, Go and sit in the company of mystics. If someone splatters you with dirt, Be like a dung hill, take it without reproach. Let them hurl abuse at you – accept it in humility. Bear complaints, censure, blame, calumny with patience – For the sake of the Beloved. Our strings are in the hands of Almighty; Let us live in submission to his will.


Rise, o moon, and spread your light – They are all fondly talking of you! Even if thousands of moons like you were to rise, Without my Friend I would still be in utter darkeness. For, where my true Moon rises, Your light will pale into insignificance. May my beloved Friend, For whom I have sacrificed my life, Come before me just once!


Rise, O moon, And spread your light across the heavens; The stars remember you in silent prayers, Their hearts glimmering with hope. Now like beggers, We roam the alleyways of earthly life, When once in our own Homeland, We were merchants of rubies. O, may no one ever have to leave his own home, For one is not worth a piece of straw In this alien land! They need not clap their hands To startle us out of this world, O Bahu; We are already disposed to fly back To our long-lost Home.


The hafiz is proud of his learning, The priest thrives on self-promotion. Like monsoon clouds they’re continously on the move With books under their arms, selling their honour. Wherever they find a promising household, They read the scripture in loud, fervent strains For a lucrative commission. O Bahu! They have put God’s name on sale Just to make a living. In this world they live spiritually bankrupt; Stripped of all honor, they go to the one beyond.


The uninitiated have no inkling Of the mystic way of life – They know not the secrets of the heart. They are always brittle and frail – Like unbaked pots of clay. Or they can be compared to glass merchants Who know nothing Of the worth of rubies and diamonds. Only ardent seekers of the company of mystics Will remain steadfast in their faith.


A heart among hearts:* The heart that is sublime beyond comprehension. When your heart advances in contemplation of God, It will comprehend how there is unity in diversity. The heart is the essence of divinity in man; In form and beauty it is the symbol of perfection. When I contemplated on my true Firend In the privacy of my inner self, The temple of my heart will illumined with his light.


The pain in my heart burns me inside. Were I to bare the wounds of my heart, The sight would torment the hearts of others! How can they whose hearts are smitten by this world Ever understand my condition? Between you and me, my Lord, Surges ocean of love. To reach your presence is no easy task for me! I beg for your Name-to sail across to you.


Water flows in streams, like life in the river of time. The reeds have blossomed again- Another season of life has passed! I still tarry on my Lord’s doorstep- Waiting for the nod to enter his glorious palace. I see no one going in, no one coming out- How can I get my heart’s message to him? The bud of my heart would unfurl into a flower Were I to receive his Word, Were I called to his presence.


Kalma cures the ailment of the heart- No other medicine works. Kalma removes all rust from the mind; Kalma washes all stains form the soul. Kalma is more precious than diamonds and rubies. Kalma is the alchemist’s shop, O Bahu; Kalma is real wealth in this world and the next.


Mystics live in this world as Hu personified; They practise the Name that is the essence of God. They live in Hu- Beyond religion, Beyond belief and unbelief, Beyond life and death. If you explore the path within yourself, You will find God nearby, through the Royal Vein. He now lives in me and I in him, O Bahu: Not only distance from him But even nearness to him Has become irrelevant!


You will only meet the unrivalled Beloved If you offer your head on the altar of his love. Then, in an ecstasy of love, You will repeat the Name of Hu constantly, Devoting every breath of your life In contemplation of him. Only when your soul merges in the essence of the Lord Will you deserve the name ‘Bahu’.


Some people are awake, Some don’t know how to wake up, Some are awake only in their dreams. A few get robbed in their seeming wakefulness, While others merge in God as they sleep to the world. Just as owls hoot using the in-breath, So do some people repeat God’s name with the in-breath. But they are blind to Reality, just as owls are to daylight. I make myself a sacrifice to anyone, O Bahu, Who toils hard at realizing God’s love.


There is but one moment in your life that is a friend, Against the millions that are your foes. * That one moment is so charged with power That it surmounts The effect of those millions of adversaries. Anyone who misses that moment wastes his entire life, Like a theif shifting from house to house.** How can those who don’t know the mystery of God Know the value of love? If you anchor your hopes in your true Home, You will never be driven from house to house.


People howl and cry over the slightest of discomforts, While lovers gladly embrace a million torments. Who would risk his life boarding a ship If the waves were hitting it hard And the shore collapsing? Lovers joyously board the ship of God’s love- Even though their souls are pitched Against the vortices of life. Unsurpassed is the joy of lovers in the court of the Lord, Where love is weighed in the smallest measure, O Bahu!


Banished from my home of bliss and happiness, I was cast out to this vale of tears. No one came to lend a hand; No one consoled my ailing heart. Pointless was my existence: I vanished from the scene Like a sugar cube tossed into the ocean! Finally I was lowered into that narrow hole in the ground Where I couldn’t even turn on my side. To crown it all, O Bahu, the Lord now demands The full settlement of my account-to that last farthing!


The ocean of oneness overflowed with love, But still people went thirsty- They didn’t open their hearts. Some merged with the Lord through idol worship; Others wasted their time with scriptures in mosques. But when their hearts were touched by God’s love, These scholars denounced their learning. You will never be worthy of meeting God, O Bahu, If you have not sacrificed your all for him.


My deep sighs have raised such a storm That the restraining cords of shyness have snapped. How long will the sickly flame of reason Hold against the storm of yearning that rages in my heart? Precious like rubies and diamonds in our own Home, Now we live like destitute aliens-deserted and helpless. Once you are dyed in the crimson of God’s love The colour will never wash off, For such is the hue of his love-deep and fast!


The Lord lives nearby but seems so far away: You don’t know how to look for him within! Nothing will be achieved by looking outside- He lives right in your own backyard! All the veils will be lifted, O Bahu, When you remove all the coverings of dirt, And your heart shines like a mirror.


Ever since the Lord ordained the Creation, I have been pledged to return to my original home. People know, from my quest for unity in God, That I am as anxious as I am eager to merge with him. I shall bear the blows of destiny as I pursue him, While I am ferried across to him on the boat of his love. No one ever found the Lord while living, O Bahu, exept those who found him By dying while living.


The Lord is an ocean of oneness In which lovers swim as they please, free of care. In their own turn, they appear in the world To dive deep into that ocean, to gather pearls. Among the pearls is a gem- Unique in value, unmatched in lustre- That shines like the moon.* We are all in the employ of the Lord, O Bahu; Let us pay homage to him through our paryers.


I am neither a Sunni nor a Shia: Both make me sick; both cause me heartburn. The arid part of my journey ended When I turned away from both And plunged into the ocean of oneness. Many dived into that ocean ill-prepared, And drowned- Only the rare one who was able to swim across! But those who held fast to their Master’s hand Safely landed ashore.


I am neither a seer nor a pao.* I am not a chhatak nor quite a sarsahi. I am not a tola nor indeed a masha. I must now weigh myself against a ratti. But I find I am even less significant Than a ratti, the smallest measure of weight! I will only assume my true worth When the Lord showers his grace on me!


I am neither scholarly nor virtuous; I am not a priest, Nor am I an expounder of Qur’anic law. I crave not heaven, I fear not hell. I have never fasted for the thirty days of ramzaan, Nor have I been a devout worshiper in a mosque. This world is but a false drama Unless union is attained with God, O Bahu


The river of oneness has surged, Quenching the thirst of the deserts and wastelands. If you don’t nurture God’s love in your heart, You will be dry and parched like those deserts- I have seen many a young ascetic smeared with ash. I sacrifice myself to anyone, O Bahu, Who humbles himself in his youth and power.


I am not a yogi, I am not a jangam.* I don’t do forty-day retreats. I have never escaped to a mosque, Nor have I ever rattled the beads of a rosary. My Master has taught me a precious lesson: The moment you have forgotten to remember God Is the moment you have spent in denial of God! O, what a marvel my Master has performed- In no time has he transported me to the Lord!


Spiritual life does not consist Of loud prayers and frenzied dancing- They only upset the peace and quiet of early morning. Walking on water is not spirituality Nor is praying on mats suspended in mid air. They alone may be called mystics, O Bahu, Who have enshrined the Friend in their hearts.


This foul, ugly world For which priests and leaders of religion shed tears Is rebuffed and rebuked by the lovers of God. If you are ambitious for the world, You will drown midstream in the ocean of life. Let us renounce the world, O Bahu, And adopt the invaluable path to God.


A thousand miles away is my Master’s abode, But I always see him nearby. It’s of little consequence if he’s physically out of sight; My heart is his real home. Whoever realizes the oneness of God Will always progress on his spiritual journey- He finds the Lord nearby, through the Royal Vain; He puts an end to the problems of life forever.


Formal prayer and prostration are feeble pursuits. Fasting has little merit, other than to save food. Only they go on pilgrimage to Mecca Who are not wanted at home. Only they pray loudly, professing their devotion, Who are deceptive of intent. But those who have found God’s Name in their hearts Care not to fast nor prostrate themselves in formal prayer.


Impeccable is my Beloved. Awkward and ungainly am I- How can I ever win his heart? Despite the countless pleas I make to him, He does not enter the courtyard of my heart. I have neither beauty nor wealth- How am I to please my Beloved, O friend! Am I destined to live with this torment, Bahu? Or perhaps I will die of crying in pain!


There aer few genuine disciples. People purporting to be Masters Perpetuate themselves with false promises. They exploit their followers to satisfy their greed; They have no inkling of the exaltation of the mystic path. But when their hearts are touched by God’s love, They willingly sacrifice their lives on this path. People who burn in the fire of worldly passions Will die hungry and thirsty for the world.


God doesn’t live in the highest heaven, Nor can he be found in the holy shrine of Ka’ba. No one ever found him through learning Or by knowing the scriptures. I never met him through bathing in holy waters- I roamed far and wide in a fruitless search. But I was rid of all my despair and anguish When I put myself in my Master’s hands, O Bahu.


I am a bird of paradise that flies high In the heavens of God’s blessing. In my word is hidden the Command of God; In my will lies the power to reverse destiny. Trivial before me is the wisdom of Plato and Aristotle; Millions like Hatim, unmatched in their generosity,* Are but beggars at Bahu’s door.


Shun the company of the ill-reputed, Lest it should discredit your family. Never will a bitter melon turn sweet, Even if you take on a pligrimage to Mecca. Never will the offspring of a crow grow into a swan, Even if you nourish it on pearls. Never will the water of a bitter well turn sweet, Even if you pour tons of sugar into it.


Not Hindu’s no Muslims- Free of religious ties, lovers don’t pray in temples; But they never take a break from their devotions And are always in communion with the Lord within. Absorbed in the essence of the Lord, They feign ignorance to conceal their wisdom. I sacrifice myself to anyone, O Bahu, Who eneters the arena of love and wins its game.


A visit to my Master is, for me, Like a devout Muslim’s pilgrimage to Mecca. My master is indeed the gateway to God’s mercy. Like a pilgrim circling the shrine of Ka’ba, My life revolves around my Master- Thus is my pilgrimage ever renewed; This is my love ever rejuvenated. Ever since the Lord ordained the Creation, Ever since I last saw that gateway to his court, My Master has lived forever, Bahu- As the Khizr who has conquered death, As the Creator who lives in human form.


If you die by practising God’s real Name, Death will become synonymous with merging in him. There is no other way you can die the death That promises dying while living. When the soul merges in the Lord, Nearness changes into oneness with him. I am restless, O Bahu, in my longing to merge in Hu! Day and night my heart burns in his remembrance.


If someone practises devotion without a Master, He will drown himself in the mire of atheism. He will drown himself up as a sheikh in a mosque Or acquire other religious titles to boost his ego. Little does the poor fellow realize That the night is dark, the path steep, And the journey is plagued with untold pitfalls. With a rosary in hand he may sit in his cell Like a mouse, sticking his head out of his hole.


You should only choose someone as your Master Who bestows the blessings of both worlds on you. First he will drive the wolf from your door, Then reveal to you the path to God. He will transform the barren ground of your heart Into fertile soil, so the seed of God’s Name can grow. If a Master has not accomplished this for you In this very life, You can be sure he is feeding you false promises.


My Master has taught me a lesson: It repeats itself-without me repeating it. When I plug my ears with my fingers, Without learning, I hear its melodies. My eyes are longing for a glimpse of him: Without seeing, I see his radiant face. In every heart abides the Beloved, O Bahu, In countless forms he reveals himself to me.


The Master is the Mecca, his love the shrine of Ka’ba; The disciple is a pilgrim set out on the holy voyage. As for me, my pilgrimage is always complete- For I am constantly in the presence of my Master. He doesn’t part company with me even for a moment, As my heart always yearns to see him. My Master is to me my very life, O Bahu; He has permeated every pore of my being.


You should only choose someone as your Master Who bestows the blessings of both worlds on you. First he will drive the wolf from your door, Then reveal to you the path to God. He will transform the barren ground of your heart Into fertile soil, so the seed of God’s Name can grow. If a Master has not accomplished this for you In this very life, You can be sure he is feeding you false promises.


My Master is a bird of paradise; He only flies with his own kind. Through great good fortunes you will have his vision- If the Lord pulls the strings of destiny in your favor. He cleanses the lepers of their leprosy; He removes the deformities of the spiritually crippled. You hold the panacea for all ills, my Master! Pray, do not leave Bahu to the care of physicians.


Just as a goldsmith melts gold And purifies it in his crucible, The Master melts and purifies the disciple’s soul. To mould it into beautiful ornaments- Be they studs or earrings. Only after they have been sculpted and polished Are they considered fit to adorn the Beloved’s ears. Only the one who enshrines the Friend in his heart, And remembers him with every breath Deserves the name ‘faqir’, O Bahu.


People with rubies in their ragged bundles* Wake up in the dead of night to meditate on Kalma. Their intense longing to meet the Beloved Permits them no rest, While the ignorant hurl abuse at them. Many nights have I stood in prayer and supplication; My heart burns in the fire of longing for the Lord. My grief has soaked up my blood And shrivelled my loosened skin, Making my bones rattle in this skeletal frame- Such is the depth of my separation from the Beloved!


Sell everything you have-spare not your life, And purchase the wealth of devotion to God. Why carry the burdens of life on your soul When, through devotion, you can merge in the Lord? False prophets sell their souls to the world And mislead seekers with a pretence of spiritual guidance. Sheikh Qadir Jilani truly renounced the world; He was indeed a king among mystics.


Like a piece of iron that is to be forged into a fine sword, You must bear the Blacksmith’s unrelenting hammer blows, Like a comb you must be finely sawn Before you can caress the Beloved’s locks. Like henna leaves you must be ground into powder Before you can adorn the Beloved’s palms.* Like cotton you must endure being carded Before you are woven into a turban for his head. You will only taste the nectar of divine love When you become a true lover of God, O Bahu.


Only when my Master initiated me into the Kalma Did I truly understand its meaning. Only then did it dawn on me. That I had wasted my earlier life as a non-believer. But now, in the manner of Hazrat Ali, the lion of God, Kalma has slain the demon of my non-belief. Only when the Kalma has saturated every pore of your being Will your heart be purified, O Bahu.


When love of God enters you heart, Religion will fall by the wayside And you will be left in infidel. You should then wear The sacred thread of idol worshipers And live in the idol house [of your heart]. For futile is prostration Where the Beloved is not manifest; Pointless the repitition of the Kalma Where the Beloved is not seen face to face.


Unknown to me now are the mysteries of my Lord- My origin I have all but forgotten! The temptation to eat the forbidden fruit Put the noose of destiny around my neck. Once I sang like a nightingale in my Lord’s garden- Trapped in this mortal cage, I now flutter with pain. Discard love for everything else from your heart, And pray only for his grace to call you back, O Bahu.


When you attach yourself to the Lord Alla’hu All your worldly involvements are at once ended. Love has pulled out huge trees of worldly attachment By the root- Where before, even the worst storm Wouldn’t dislodge a leaf. Love has dissolved huge rocks of carnal passion As though they were salt. Love is not child’s play, O Bahu! If it were, everyone would have become a lover of God.


Lovers who completely renounce the world Become contented and free from want. They need practise no alchemy, For they can, with but one glance, Turn base metal into gold. Their enemies have no chance against them- Their Friend is always by their side. I sacrifice myself to the one, O Bahu, Who makes his Master the mainstay of his life.


You learned to write in a beautiful hand, But what to write you didn’t learn- The whole exercise was a waste of paper. You call yourself a calligrapher When you can’t even shape a writing pen! When your script is examined by the real Scribe All your efforts will prove to have been worthless. Only when you repeatedly write Ali and Meem* On the tablet of your heart, will you pass his test.


Eventually your grave will be dug And your body slid into the lahad.* Your loved ones will throw handfuls of dust And raise a mound of earth over you. They will say the death-prayer for you soul’s benefit, They go home wailing and weeping at your sad demise. But even after death there is no relief from pain Other than through good deeds done while living- Which alone count in the court of the Lord, O Bahu.


It matters little if I am physically a long way off- My Master is never far from my heart. He may have gone a thousand miles away to live- I always find him present in my heart. Those who have even an iota of love in their hearts Remain intoxicated with the wine of that love- They need no other wine. Only they may be called faqirs, O Bahu, Whose very graves breathe Life.


A perfect Master scrubs his disciples As a washer-man rubs and beats dirt out of clothes. But unlike the washerman who needs soap, The Master purifies with his glance, Removing all traces of dirt from the disciple’s soul. Let the one who can permeate every pore of my being Be my Master, O Bahu!


If only done with your tongue and not your heart, The repetition of God’s Name is in vain. Using the various kings of zikr*-with the heart, the soul, And other secret methods-only leads to confusion. These methods give no clue of the Beloved Who is nearby and only to be found through the Royal Vein. Only the one whose spirit abides in realms beyond space Deserves to be called faqir, O Bahu.


Utter dark and fearsome is the path, Leading to the shining pool of the water of life- Like the Beloved’s radiant face, Hidden under his locks, dark and fragrant. The Master’s face is the holy Ka’ba, To which lovers prostrate themselves in obeisance. As Alexander sought the water of life in the world, So lovers relentlessly search for this nectar within. But only fortunate souls Blessed with a Master’s guidance Drink from that pool of nectar.


Cry, my heart – perhaps the Lord wil hear The cries of a lover in torment! My heart burns, filled with grief And with the pain of separation. No more can a heart sigh without grief Than a torch burn without oil. If, like a moth, you make friends with fire, Like a moth, O Bahu, you must perish in its flames.


When love gave the call to prayer, My heart responded: I purified myself-I performed my wuzoo* With the blood of my heart! When the cry “God is great” inspired me To merge in that great Lord, I found my heart unwilling to turn back. When I myself proclaimed Allah’s greatness, I merged in him and thanked him For relieving me of my long suffering.


The Kalma has ferried millions across the ocean. In countless ways has it transformed Ordinary mortals into Saints. Through Kalma is pacified the raging fire of hell; Through Kalma is attained heaven, The realm of everlasting bliss. There is no treasure like Kalma, O Bahu, In this world and the next.


In the nectar of Kalma I bathed and purified myself; To the Kalma I was joined in marriage. It was Kalma that, in the end, performed my last rites. It was Kalma that adorned my grave. With the Kalma I will go to heaven; Through the Kalma I will be cleansed of my sins. Those who are called by the Lord himself Find it hard to turn their backs on Kalma.


You will only know the marvel of Kalma When it has opened the window of your heart. Lovers practise Kalma within their hearts, Lit by the Master’s radiance. All fourteen realms are within the Kalma- How can the uninitiated comprehend this secret? As for me, my Master initiated me into the Kalma. Since then I have dedicated my soul only to him.


When God ordained the Creation, we were with him; We possessed his qualities, we were of his essence. Separated, now we wander around searching for him. Once we lived in the realm of pure spirit; Trapped in physical bodies we now cry in pain. We were unsullied in our native state- It was our satanic ego that defiled us all, O Bahu.


My heart is ablaze with the fire of love. Who will quench the flames? How was I to know what this love was like? It has made me bow my head at every doorstep. It is always awake, and it always keeps me awake; It doesn’t allow me a wink of sleep. O Bahu, I sacrifice myself to anyone, Who will reunite me with my long-separated Friend.


Intellect and wisdom find no foothold Where the secrets of unity in God are revealed. Priests are no help there Nor is any knowledge of the scriptures. You can only merge your self in the Absolute When the Master reveals the divine secret. You can only acquire ultimate knowledge of God After you put away the scriptures.


The ghaus and qutb trail behind; The goal of lovers is far ahead. The leaders of religion can never reach the stage To which the lovers of God have easy access. Lovers are always united with the Beloved; They abide in realms beyond time and space, I shall sacrifice myself to anyone, O Bahu, Whose spirit rests in its own Essence.


Waves on the ocean of love rise to the skies; Even large and sturdy ships cannot survive. The fragile boat of intellect and reason Has little chance. It will sink in its first attempt to cross Because fierce whirlpools roar, deadly waves crash, When a ship prepares to enter the port of Unity. The death that strikes terror in people’s minds Brings joy to a lover’s heart: In death he finds everlasting life.


Love considers me a weakling; Unrelenting, it charges at my heart. Overwhelmed by its onslaughts, I see nothing but love wherever I look; I can find no place that is bereft of love. I was blessed to meet a perfect Master Who opened the sealed window of my heart. I make myself a sacrifice to the Master, O Bahu, Who has revealed to me the secret of God.


People who have attained the real Name of God Do not sing hymms in temples. They have learnt to practise the real Name; They have acquired the true knowledge of his essence. They have wielded the sword of God’s will; They have slain their ego with God’s love. All fourteen realms are within your heart, O Bahu, if only you knew how to peep within!


They rise early; they get to their work fast: Like crows and vultures they create a racket- Reading their sermons like the mimicking chandoor.* They spend their lives like this- Talking gibberish, shooting prayers into the air And distorting the message of the scriptures- Because their hearts are never moved by God’s love.


Curios are the ways of love- It weans you away from religion. When smitten by love, Even priests would forsake their priesthood. The ignorant preach against love, But lovers shun their advise. Those who are called by God himself, Find it onerous to return to worldly life.


Love has inspired me to explre the heavens: From earth it has raised me to the worlds of Spirit. Be gone, foul world, beguile me no more! I am already in anguish about my stay here. I am a wayfarer, my home is far away, And you have enticed me with false promises. Only if you forsake the world and die while living Can you find the Lord, O Bahu.


Considering me frail and helpless, Love has entrenched itself at my door. Like a spoiled child, it won’t sleep, Nor will it let me have any rest. It demands the impossible of me: It wants summer fruit in the dead of winter- Where can I find such a thing? When love decides to call you, O Bahu, Reason and logic are completely forgotten.


Considering me a weakling, Love has settled itself like a squatter in my heart. It has forced its way in through a secret opening- What an act of daring trespass! When I went within myself to investigate, I found my Love sitting alone-waiting! Without my perfect Master, O Bahu, None can ever realize the goal of life.


Lovers remain completey intoxicated In the ecstasy of their love for the Beloved. They offer their souls to the Beloved while still living And thus immortalize themselves In this life and the hereafter. Why should anyone Whose heart shines with the light of God Burn candles in temples? Grossly limited are reason and intellect, O Bahu! They have no access to the realm of love.


Had these lovers heeded the good advise of the world, They would not have deserted their homes.* They would not have burnt their hearts and souls In the fire of longing for the Beloved. They are oblivious of both themselves and the world. Their love for the Lord has robbed them Of their patience and their awareness of themselves. I make myself a sacrifice to anyone Who has surrendered his life for the Beloved, O Bahu.


Be brave and swim across the ocean of love, Plunging straight Into its fierce waves, its deadly whirlpools. And don’t be frightened At the sight of the dense forests Or threatening inner waste lands, On your way to the country of love. Only when you sacrifice your life In your love for God Will you deserve the name ‘faqir’, O Bahu.


Become a lover, and let your heart be like a rock. If people hurl abuse at you, consider it as a blessing. Even Mansur, who knew all the secrets of God, Was sent to the gallows. Once you have bowed you head in prayer, Do not lift it again, O Bahu, Although the multitude may brand you an infidel.


Lovers warm themselves On the fire of love in their hearts- Ignited and def with the fuel of their bones. They carve out the flesh of their hearts And roast it on this fire. Distraught in love, they wander listlessly, Quenching their thirst with their own blood. Thousands have claimed to be lovers, O Bahu; Rare is the one who is blessed with true love!


Everyone from king to beggar has played the game of love- It equally astounds the intellectual, the scholar and the wise. Love has firmly entrenched itself within me, Establishing its private chamber in my heart! Love has touched the hearts Of the rich and the poor alike; How can an outsider-who had never tasted love- Realize its bliss and splendour?


Devotees, whose hearts are saturated With the love of God, keep their lips sealed. Every pore of their bodies has a million tongues With which to repeat the Name of God- Their silence speaks for their eloquence. They have done their wuzoo with the holy Name; They have bathed themselves in the ocean of oneness. Only when your soul identifies with its divine Source Will your prayer be accepted, O Bahu.


If you seek to meet God ardently, Become a disciple of a true Master And sing his praises. If you follow his instructions sincerely, You will, one day, assume his very form. By constant repitition of his Kalma You will bathe yourself in its beatitude. The Lord will purify you of all your sins, O Bahu, If you practise that real Name of God.


I see my Beloved in the world outside. When I look within, I see him in my heart. I wander around, worn down with the pain of longing; The blind and ignorant mock and jeer. I have found my Lord within my heart, While the unenlightened go on pilgirmage to Mecca. Says Bahu, the beggar at his Master’s door: There are bountiful treasures within my heart.


A lover purifies himself just once-with Kalma; His wuzoo will hold till the day of judgement. Day and night he prostrates himself And keeps his head bowed in supplication. The faqirs are at home in this world and the next, But a thousand stages beyond paradise Lies their real Home!


Lovers are always engaged In inner contemplation of the Beloved. They even deny themselves their nightly sleep- So absorbed are they In their practise of God’s real Mane. They are restless day and night; They cry in the pain of their separation from God. Bahu hails the good fortune of those devotees Who rightly devote themselves To the lesson of Oneness.


A real lover is one who bows his head Before the Beloved’s sword. He will never forsake his love, Never turn his back on the Beloved- Even if he were cut into pieces with the sword of love. He will put his heart and soul into his endeavour To find a clue to the Beloved’s secrets. The love of Hussain and Ali was true, O Bahu. They sacrificed their lives, But not their love for God and the Prophet.


Endless fasts, prayers and worship, And acts of prostration have worn me out. A thousand times have I gone on pilgrimage to Mecca, But that did not end the wanderings of my mind; Nor did my retreats to the seclusion of the forest Bring me the enlightenment I had sought. But all the objectives of life are met, O Bahu, When the Master bestows a merciful glance!


A lover lost his heart to the Beloved; And with his heart lose, he himself was lost. Being lost, he never turned back, But ventured onward to join the Beloved. In his love he merged in the Beloved, And his reason and intellect were all but forsaken. I make myself a sacrifice to anyone in whose heart Love has so blossomed, O Bahu!


A lover offers his prayer in an unspoken language. It is not for everyone- Only the aching heart of a lover can know this prayer. He purifies himself by doing his wuzoo With tears from his eyes, blood from his heart. Only a rare devotee knows the prayer for which The tongue does not move, lips do not flutter.


A lover’s heart melts like wax, But slow in response is the Beloved. Like a hawk, the lower eyes the Beloved’s heart And seeks it out. But tied down to earthly strings, How can the poor hawk fly? The heart that has not purchased love In the marketplace of life, O Bahu, Will go empty-handed-in this world and the next.


My body is burning in the fire of longing; The pain of separation has settled in my hart; Like the ko’el I cry for the rain of God’s mercy. Sing, O peeha, the rainy season has arrived! Join me in my prayer for the water of life- Lest the rainy season should end, the opportunity be lost. O Bahu, firmness of faith, steadfast of purpose, Will one day unite you with your beloved Friend.


The dog of ego must be slain and minced into bits By the repetition of God’s Name. Practised with love, with every breath of one’s life. You can realize God with the repition of the Name, And your soul can have The vision of its own divine Essence. Heaven and earth become slaves of anyone, O Bahu, Who has realized the Essence within himself.


Put your faith in Ghaus-ul-A’zam, And you will never be left in the lurch. With just a grain of love in your heart, You will spend your life Crying in the pain of separation. If you long to meet the Lord ardently, You will always obtain peace and happiness. If you practise the real Name of God, All bliss will be yours, O Bahu, In this world and the world beyond.


O Shah Jilani, Master of Masters! Listen to my supplication. Who else will minister my needs? Who else will attend to my plight? For me, there is no one like you; But for you, there are forlorn millions like me. Do not read the scroll of my evil deeds; Pray shut not the door of remission on my soul! But for a blatant sinner like me, says Bahu, who would have given you such a chance To exercise your forgiveness?


Lofty are the portals of religion; Hard to find is the narrow path that leads to God. Priests and scholars allow no one to find it; They throw stones and rocks, they persecute Saints. Lovers have only discovered this strait path By keeping out of their sight. Only lovers know the secret path to the Lord. How can people driven by blind impulse find it?


May God’s grace descend on Shorekote, Where Bahu lives! Like a gardener who nurses his seedlings, The Master always tends and protects his disciples: He nourishes them from his court With his merciful glance. Someone who shows you the Lord within your body Deserves the name ‘Master’, O Bahu.


I could sacrifice myself a hundred times To those who never say a dispiriting word; A thousand times to those Who stand firm by their word. A million times could I make an offering of myself To people who keep their ego on a leash; And a billion times to the pure as gold, Who present themselves as being like lead.


The stubborn ego is like an ugly, black dog That howls and screams without end. It eats your flesh, it drinks your blood; It dwells in the left, shadowy side of your heart! It is evil and accursed, O Bahu- May the Lord save us all from its brutal attacks!


My Master has explained to me The reality of living in the heart: It is called Ism-i-A’zam, the Word of God- It is the divine mystery. This Word is the breath of our lives; Other than the Word nothing exists! It brings life, it causes death; In it lie all the secrets of God!


Only those who practise his true Name Know how to sing God’s praises. They acquire through inner revelation, The knowledge real and true! Wielding the swerd of God’s will They slay their ego with God’s love. Those who find the water of eternal life Acquire divine wisdom, O Bahu!


O Shah Jilani, Master of Masters, Listen intently to my supplication: My ship is caught in perilous seas Where even mighty whales dare not venture. O Shah Jilani, beloved of God, Make haste and come to my rescue! Those who rely on you, O Meeran, As their Master and Saviour, Will safely swim across the ocean of life.


I found the mystic path When I held the beggar’s bowl in hand, Begging for the Master’s grace. I could only truly renounce the world After I had met my exalted Master. Deep have I drunk from the ocean of oneness, Yet my soul thirsts for more and more. Tears of blood pave the way to God, O Bahu! None but the ignorant will take this lightly.


Bliss and grace reign in the heart, That glows with the light of love. The sail of love has soared to the heavens, Leaving the ship of thought and reason. Without its motive power-sinking On its very first attempt to cross the ocean of life. From where I stand, In whatever direction my eyes turn, I see only my Beloved, O Bahu.


Give up all procrastination And awake your soul, O dervish! Have faith in your Lord, like the birds That fly through the air without carrying their food. When they are hungry they fly in search of nourishment- They don’t store provisions. The Lord provides food Even the insect that lives in the depths of a rock crevice.


Everyone recites the Kalma with his lips; Rare is the person who recites it from the heart. When the Kalma comes from the heart, The spoken word has no value. Only mystics know this Kalma of the heart. What do they know, who only sing and preach? My Master has taught me this secret Kalma; I am now forever united with my Lord.


The pious tire themselves out With austerities and fasts, With worship and rituals, While lovers dissolve themselves In the ocean of oneness. Through love they acquire the secret of God! Like a bee drowning in a jar of honey, The worldly –minded are drowning in a jar of honey, The worldly-minded are drowning in worldly pleasures. They cannot soar to the spiritual heights of the mystics Any more than a bee can fly with eagles! Those who keep company with a Master Are honored in God’s court, bl


Fasting, prayers and rites of abstinence Only end in confusion. God is not found through such means; These are all but acts of vanity and self-promotion! You have failed to recognize the beloved Friend Who always lives within you. You will save yourself from rites and rituals, O Bahu, when you lose your being in God.


One who has not merged his soul in its Essence Is love in caste. The dog of ego should be kept on its leash; Indeed, it should be minced into small pieces. The soul is admonished by the Lord For procrastinating while on this earth, And subduing her natural urge to be with Him. Only they may be called faqirs, O Bahu, Whose very graves breathe Life.


The heart is deeper than the ocean; Dive deep into it, O seeker, and explore! Drink the water of life from this ocean, Or your soul will always remain thristy. Those who contemplate on the Lord, Devoting every breath of their lives To his remembrance, Will always keep him in their hearts. The company of a seductress is less corrupting Than that of an ignorant teacher Who deceives in the grab of piety, O Bahu!


The path of the Masters is the highest of all; It is beyond all comprehension! On this path there is neither teaching Nor learning from books. There are neither discussions nor expositions Nor stories from the past. Love of this world is sheer idolatry, a denial of God; Let no one trust its loyalty. Only the one who knows the mystic art Of dying while living, knows the real secret.


In the dark fathomless night of ignorance, Love is a torch that brings light. From it emanates a Meoldy That enraptures lovers’ hearts! On the path of love are forests, oceans And wastelands, with a constant threat of lions. Anyone who cherishes perfect love in his heart, Can cross these forests, oceans and wastelands Without fear.


Everyone churns cream to get butter, But a lover churns the fire of love in his heart! Propelled by his sighs, the churning-stick of the mind Rotates in the vessel of his body. The rope of pain turns the blades that create sparks, As the water of grief is added to cool the contents. Only someone who churns his bones To produce the Essence Deserves to be called a faqir, O Bahu!


I pass my nights without a wink of sleep; In confusion I pass my days. Only a man of God would know a man of God- What can a slave of the mind and senses know of him? If you don’t meditate on God; you will repent That your youth was spent in vain persuits. Those who found their Master in Shah Jilani Will gain admittance to the Lord’s court.


Unless the self is sacrificed and lost in God’s love, Repitition and contemplation will not achieve the goal. Only dwellers of realms beyond time and space Can lose themselves in God’s love. Only someone whose heart is pierced By the arrows of his love Can sacrifice his self and merge in God. Anyone who fails to find the beloved Friend Will remain bereft of love in both worlds, O Bahu.


Repeat the Name of God, and always contemplate on him, While doing your repitition- Keener than a sword is such remembrance. You must sigh with grief and burn your heart in love, Before you can practise the Name And resolve themystery of life. Only id you contemplate on the Beloved And do not, even for a moment, take your mind off him, Will you truly remember. Struck by such contemplation, No one can really live for the world- It digs out worldly attachment by the root. Repeat the Word of Go


People who seek the world are like dogs – In its pursuit they shift from house to house.* Greedily they pounce on bones – They have wasted their lives Fighting over worldly things. Devoid of good sense, foolish in their ways, They cannot understand that what they really need Is the water of life-to satisfy all hunger, all thirst. Without remembrance of God’s Name, O Bahu, One stays caught in this false drama of life.


In the ocean of my heart Arise the waves of my Master’s grace. In it appear whirlpools, in it blow fierce gales Of the countless thoughts and arguments That hamper my contemplation of the Lord. I am in an alien land, where I find no support. To add to my woes, I have fallen in love! My lack of maturity, my inexperiance, Aggravate my plight, and yet- Ever since I tasted love, O Bahu, I have lost all taste For worldly play and merry-making.


Spiritual and worldy life are twin sisters, So alike that not even the best of minds Can tell them apart. Not only are they mutually antagonistic, They are also wedded to the same individual. But it is against the law of religion To be married to them both at the same time- Which is no less odd Than trying to hold fire and water together! One who claims to espouse both God and mammon Will be condemned in this world and the next.


The hearts of lovers burn in the fire of longing- No one dare sit by its searing flames! This fire is sorching- Only someone who knows the heart’s inner secrets Will warm himself by it. Death stands over your head, with his sword drawn- May the Master take pity and sheathe death’s blade!* Every bride must eventually go to her bridegroom’s home- She cannot stay forever in her parents’ house.


Black skin is better than a black heart- Just think about it. Though the face is black, let the heart be pure, For it is the heart that identifies with the Friend. The heart that constantly pursues the Beloved Will, in time, receive the nod of recognition. The scholars flee their mosques, O Bahu, When their hearts are touched by God’s love.


The heart is deeper than the ocean – Who can fathom its mysteries? Storms come and go on its surface, While fleets sail through it, Their crews wielding their oars. Inside the heart are the fourteen realms, Stretched like canvas tents. Only the on who knows These deeper secrets of the heart Can know the Creator, O Bahu!


This world-the great seductress- Best suits the home of an infidel or an athiest. She adorns herself with cunning And uses her coquettish charm to entice one and all. She swings her body with the speed of lightening; She wraps her lustful arms around people. She kills those who woo her, Like the golden brick that destroyed its claimants-* But she belongs to no one.


Faced with the sighs of lovers, Even mountains crumble to earth. Faced with the sighs of lovers, Even deadly snakes flee to their holes. The sighs of lovers cause the stars To tumble from the heavens above. Faced with the sighs of lovers, Only the lovers remain steadfast.


The pain of separation is a deadly hawk: It preys on lovers, it drinks their blood. Like a lion ruling the forest This hawk has made my heart its own domain. Like an enraged rogue elephant, It raises its trunk, it trumpets and it charges. But do not fear the thrusts of this pain, O Bahu! Without union with the Beloved is not possible.


Unity is written on the tablet of your heart – You should continue studying that tablet for eternity. You have spent a lifetime reading scriptures And soncumed yourself in this pursuit of ignorance. You only have to remember the one Word of God- And keep on practising that one Word. Those who enshrine the Lord in their hearts, O Bahu, Have both the worlds at their command.


The human body is a magnificent city – The heart is its bazaar, the mouth its gate. The soul is a merchant, the ego is a highwayman Who robs her on her way to God. If you do not destroy this ego, It will destroy your life’s great opportunity: It will make you waste your presious days, O Bahu. It will shut tight the door to eternal life.


Hearts that have not struck the bargain of love Cannot know the pangs of longing. They will always be labelled spiritually impotent. Who will consider them ‘men of God’? Aimlessly they roam the alleyways of life, Like cattle dumb and stupid. When lovers tie the wrist bands of commitment* Before entering the arena of love, It will be clear who is a man of God And who a mere pretender. * (In some parts of India it is the custom to tie wrist bands on those entering battle).


Love flourishes in that heart, In which glows the Name of God. The love of God is like the fragrance of musk – Even a thousand wrappings cannot hold it in; Or like the sun, which cannot be hid behind one’s fingers, Or like a river that cannot be stopped in its course. My Friend is in me, in my Friend am I; There is no distance left between us.


Those who have found the Lord, Through their contemplation on Alif, Do not read the holy Qur’an. They live by the love of God, As the veil of ignorance is lifted from their eyes. Even heaven and hell wait on them, Becoming their very slaves. I sacrifice myself to those, O Bahu, Who merge themselves in the oneness of God.


In the court of the Lord, an ounce of love, Weighs more than tons of religios faith. Reading of scriptures, worship and rituals, Are all barren and fruitless practise. Without a Master nothing will be achieved, Even if you read your own prayers the whole night long. Only if you die before your death, O Bahu, Will you attain God.


Ever since my Master gave me, To drink from his cup of nectar, I have become carefree-indifferent to the world. If a Master has not initiated you into God’s mystery, Keeping awake to pray at night will avail you nothing. All night you spend in prayer and worship, All day you indulge in slanderous talk. The power and authority of the world is false, O Bahu! True is the sovereignty of the faqir!


Like a lion that kills in the forest, And a hawk that preys in the farmland. Love destroys all impurites of the heart, Better than a goldsmith can purify gold. Lovers are always awake – They are free from appetites of the flesh, And they have conquered death. But only those lovers are truly alive, O Bahu, Who offer their heads at the altar of God.

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