Start Shouting!

Angels! Saints! All you holy ones above!
My true lover just walked in.  Start shouting! 

Night turned to day, dark into light.  He’s here
without a veil to hide his face. Start singing!  

The Sun is up, it’s rising in the West.
You armies of God’s ecstasy! Start moving!

Fars is set aflame, and Tehran’s burning.
Pure spirit rises from his place. Start dancing!

At daybreak nightingales don’t sing.  The cock
struts out and birds of Glory start praising.

When my lover asks, Am I not your Lord?
even the gods reply in awe, Thou art.

His mighty river overflows, and floods
a thousand desert Karbalas—to start.

The arches of his eyes will make the feuds
of warring faiths and creeds to disappear. 

Moses and Jesus in heaven are stunned,
and all the holy ones are lost down here.  

Two thousand Muhammads hear thunderbolts,
they wrap themselves in cloaks, tremble in fear.

The sea storms—it casts up its shining pearls.
To give way to the sun, the dawn makes haste.

  Men melt, mountains quake before his beauty.
His majesty lays whole kingdoms to waste.

And me, destroyed by two strands of his hair.
The moon of his face drives me to despair.

Beloved, when will I see you up there,
see the light of your face, the shine of your hair?

The moon now has me mad with restless love
in the agony of my separation

Your Brilliant Face

When the brilliant sun of your face first dawned,
you dazed me by your light at my day's start.

So speak the words: “Am I not your Lord?”
My heartbeat will reply: “Thou art. Thou art.”

You asked: “Am I not?” I said: “Yes, Thou art."
Then disaster set up camp inside my heart.

Alone I gaze at the moon of your face:
When slain at Karbalá you danced and leapt,

but when you heard them wailing for my death,
you grabbed my things, rushed to my side, and
      wept.

You raised me up high, then tore me to rubble.
So light a spark now—set the trash afire.

I hear angels in ceaseless song: “Sad lovers!
Come join his feast:  Eat all that you desire.”

Be still, with Táhirih. Will you hold back the sea?
Hear Leviathan roar: "There is no God but Me."  

Tahirih: A Portrait in Poetry

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