Poems

Flute Player

Where is the real bazaar?
I want to buy an eyeful of kindness.
I want to dress my soul in hyperbole.
There's a merchant who brings me
a whole spectrum of leaping colour
from the city of desires.
But here at the bazaar at Khojand,
faces are sour, talk is hot
and I long for the cool sweets of Tabriz.
Where is the real bazaar?
The flute-player tells me:
come with your ears used to insults,
and listen to the light recite a prayer to the dark.
Open your eyes used to pale shame
and see the beauty of Truth.
Where is the real bazaar?
The flute-player is there
calling my heart towards his hat
full of old change, but not a single pearl,
and since I am the jewel in the teardrop
I must go.

3 Comments

1 Beau McGlasson

Amazing! I can’t help but love this poem! Haha!

2 Ma Sheng

Beautiful poem. Light’s reading ‘Ya-Sin’ to Darkness in the literal translation creates a majestic image in the mind’s eye, the title ‘Reed-Flute Player’ can also be translated as ‘the Nay/Ney Player’, which easily brings to mind the Mevlevis and Mevlana Rumi, may God bless his soul, one of Khojandi’s main inspirations.

3 dariush nazari

I read the poem,very kind and soulfull,,,with a big motivation in writting,,,,

 

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