A Picture Without Colors

My beloved….
But I am not a well in your courtyard
Always looking forwards to your thirst,
                        clean if you draw water
Stale if you do not.
I want to burst forth like a cloud,
I too have my thirst for you,
But my ties with you
Will not be those of the baboon and the buffoon.
A desire for your nearness
Hankers in my heart,
But I do not want to be ground like grain
In the rolling mill of your desire.
Tied firmly to faith,
I don’t want to get married to maimed, crippled ideas
And give birth to children who are blind, deaf, dumb.
All my senses are intact,
That is why I think, I crave, I tremble.
Hunger, fear and sorrow become the shadows of death.
And agitate in my blood,
But you want to see me with eyes downcast.
Pain rages like a fire outside,
The flames reach out to me
And you want to see my face fresh as rose.
I am not a picture
Etched out on the canvas of your wishes,
For you to colour as you choose,
And never to step out of this frame.
I know that I am nothing without you,
But what are you, without me?
To relish the moments of love,
Come, let us be mirrors to each other.
Drawing you fingers through my hair
Don’t talk to me of the moon,
My beloved, talk to me
As you talk to your friends.