My Poetic Wine from Madina’s Grapevine

The poem is in reference to comments of one reader (on this blog) about another poem of mine which he found distasteful, since it dealt with the romantic love of the poet's lover. The poet regrets that a shift from his usual subjects, of God and His Beloved, seemed disturbing for his readers and assures them his soul of poetry is still rooted on the ‘same old wine’. He admits his own human weakness and begs the sincere readers for the same positive criticism in the future also.

Addressed to those dismayed with Jaihoon’s change in style

Last night an argument
Unfolded at the tavern
Their faces away turned
As they made anger plain

They felt at unease-
As the wine’s was taste else

‘Not the same as past
The ecstasy not lasts!’

Serve us the same old wine
Else with you we shall not dine

We are used
To your old Love
No other spade
Can our hearts plough’

I asked Him
For His Forgiveness!
I prayed to Him
For His guidance!

It was my own fault
For the trouble wrought

For the sake of change
I’d served another range

When lost-
In the rapture of love
I tossed-
A drink for my lady love

I was in a state
Of painful strain
My heart
In her dearth in strain

Yaqub always cried
For the separated Yusuf
Though his Lord
Was for him dear enough

I am a human-
After all!
To feel pain
Isn’t a sin at all!

My wine flows
From the well of heart
It has flaws
As others from under the earth

I am a shy-
Crazy fledgling
To wisely fly-
Am I just learning

‘Tis a truth real
I am hardly familiar
With paths of Jilan or Gazzal
I have knowledge not clear

My Friend
Is not from Tabrez
My Word
Is not from Shiraz

I ‘hold on
To my tiny being’
So that of smoke-
I become not a ring

O those who assemble
Near Jaihoon’s table!

It is your care
Which makes me dare
To serve you better
The drink of Madina’s master!

Sallallahu alaihi wa sallam

Your sincere protest
Is my confidence
Feel free to detest
When you are upset

If I serve you in repeat
Wine of other sort
Throw the cup at-
The face of poet!

My poetic wine
Finds its true soul
From the grapevine
Sown on Madina’s soil

Ya Mustafa!
Ya Mustafa!
Ya Mustafa!

The cosmos is
Never, ever exhausted
(Even if) Your praise is
A zillion times repeated!

Such blessed fortune
Is mine alone!
To suffer shame and blame
When away from you I turn!

The letters I was taught
At my mother’s lap and school
For your loving tribute
Shall I employ as a lavish tool

If I am not blessed
Due to the deeds I lacked
From al-Kawthar
I’d be barred
From a distance
Your face’d be looked

O Beloved!

The meaning
Of Love are you!
The synonym
Of Beauty are you!

O Muhammad!
Sallallahu alaihi wa sallam

No, I shall not wipe
The tears which flow
As I these lines I write
In the pain of your love

I save it
For the future
To keep it
As a fortune

To see the rivers
Of sweet Heaven
These salty drops
May become a reason?

O those who assemble
Near Jaihoon’s table!

It is your care
Which makes me dare
To serve you better
The drink of Madina’s master!

- Jaihoon

See http://www.jaihoon.com/egoptics/grapevine.htm for more details