Waiting for a meeting so long

tell me what is your mind O God.

Reveal, thy unmanifest form

in the apparel of your majestic robe.

Make this happen someday, O God!

I have made a thousand supplications

in anguish. Humbly, soulfully have I touched the ground.

Do not spare your mirror so long

in the fear that it may crack.

The mirror you own is the one mirror

that gets dearer to the one who has crafted it.

The more the cracks, the more does it testify

to the heart which has broken innumerable times.

There is ecstasy in the torment of the heart yearning for you.

The harp is silent, the melody I could hear once, is lost in the silence of the harp.

The moth circling around the flame said this to the candle,

"Wisdom gained at the cost of a lifetime

is not found in the relentless burning of your heart

nor can it be found in my poignant prayers for grace. "

My dark misdeeds found no refuge in the wide world.

If at all they found a place, it was the last resort, your forgiveness.

For me neither the warmth of love nor the playful indulgence of the games of passion now.

I am past the romance of the restless prince, and past the lure of the beloved's enticing hair tied in a knot.

Even as my forehead touches the ground in fervour of the salute,

A voice arises from the earth I touch.

It says. "Your heart is entangled still

in your material wants and needs

So long as this entanglement,

so long shall be withheld your reward."

A simplified rendering of Allama Iqbal's ghazal.