The Fire of Love

To whom may I speak of the fire of love?
The world cares not.
My heart burns and cracks, shrivels and cries.
Only One knows this secret,
and He is the cause of it.

Drawn, drawn, drawn, like a moth to the flame,
my poor heart flutters, wings ablaze.
Sad thing! If only it knew!
The flame burns only the dross.
The heart itself becomes the flame.

Consumed by love, the heart grows bright.
From love’s pure light,
the flame ignites
A secret fire in kindred hearts.

From heart to heart the fire spreads;
by love alone, the pyre’s fed.
The sacred fire lights all the world,
may all hearts its flame enfurl!

—Bhai Din