The marketplace wanders, but I stand quite still,Bent like an 'Alif' by the weight of His will.The world is a tavern where wine turns to salt,I find my own healing in every fault.Don't ask for my name or the place I was born,I am the rose that was lost to the thorn.
O, the sad songs of the dervish ring clear,In the silence of night, where the secrets appear.Weeping for union, burning in grace,Seeking the light of a hidden face.A reed flute is crying, a soul is in flight,Turning through shadows toward the Infinite Light. DerviЕџ AcД±klД± ЕћarkД±lar
The threshold is worn, the heart is a ruin,I’ve traded my silk for a cloak of dust.Each breath is a sigh that seeks the Beloved,Each step is a path where the ego must rust.They call me a stranger in my own native land,With a cup that is empty, and truth in my hand. The marketplace wanders, but I stand quite still,Bent