I agree, O heart, that you cannot
Stop writing, my ghazals are strange sonnets
When they hear my words, free-verse
They know that I am not an
Experienced poet, but rather –
Only an open heart
I write not something easier
But the language of my soul
Otherwise it would be difficult to write
I will not cry for satisfaction
Of an easy life, I will trumpet
Beautiful virgin-feelings always fresh
For Heaven and the Tao agree
That the wine I drink is beloved reference
The lyrics of my Beloved spans
Across lifetimes, across star-systems
Who can deliver my message?
I will follow the inner mysticism
As the identity of a pilgrim who
Always loses their way among
The sayings of all poets, a bit of everyone
Internalized, Oh Lord, you know it is true
That my heart spoke with a different tongue
Only with the aim of idol-breaking empathy.
Wuji Seshat 