The Ney’s Tale
Hear a story, in its sounds, of the Ney’s
Need for its home-grounds; it says -
“In every man and woman’s heart
My separation a longing need does start,
I seek one so emptied by my cry,
My pain becomes ecstatic sigh.
Manifest in each soul’s becoming,
Is the desire for its home coming.
My song in sorrow and in joy, finds
A response in all kinds of minds;
Each one formed its own view,
None sought in me what is true.
My secret is clearly manifest within,
But to find it eye and ear cannot begin.
The outer senses perceive themselves alone,
The light within by them cannot be known.”
Hear a story, in its sounds, of the Ney’s
Need for its home-grounds; it says -
“In every man and woman’s heart
My separation a longing need does start,
I seek one so emptied by my cry,
My pain becomes ecstatic sigh.
Manifest in each soul’s becoming,
Is the desire for its home coming.
My song in sorrow and in joy, finds
A response in all kinds of minds;
Each one formed its own view,
None sought in me what is true.
My secret is clearly manifest within,
But to find it eye and ear cannot begin.
The outer senses perceive themselves alone,
The light within by them cannot be known.”
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This air of the reed, it is really fire,
To know this, from self-existence retire.
This fire is love’s spirit, in sound;
Loves passion, in love’s wine is found.
A loved one lost – then the heart’s veil parted,
Once the reed’s piercing call it started.
Whoever saw anything like the reed?
A poison and a cure;
Whoever saw passion in a lover’s need,
So desperate or pure?
It speaks of the lover’s way; heart drenched in blood.
It speaks of Majnun’s way; of intense lover hood.
Only the one not by senses bound,
Can hear its sentences, in its sound.
Those days have long departed,
Leaving behind the broken hearted.
Well let them go; if you remain,
We will not ever be parted again.
A little must suffice he who, in the sea,
Knows not swimming;
Or he who, from the table of divinity,
Eats not when fasting.
Rawness knows not ripeness – no harm;
It means I must be brief – as-salaam!
To know this, from self-existence retire.
This fire is love’s spirit, in sound;
Loves passion, in love’s wine is found.
A loved one lost – then the heart’s veil parted,
Once the reed’s piercing call it started.
Whoever saw anything like the reed?
A poison and a cure;
Whoever saw passion in a lover’s need,
So desperate or pure?
It speaks of the lover’s way; heart drenched in blood.
It speaks of Majnun’s way; of intense lover hood.
Only the one not by senses bound,
Can hear its sentences, in its sound.
Those days have long departed,
Leaving behind the broken hearted.
Well let them go; if you remain,
We will not ever be parted again.
A little must suffice he who, in the sea,
Knows not swimming;
Or he who, from the table of divinity,
Eats not when fasting.
Rawness knows not ripeness – no harm;
It means I must be brief – as-salaam!