Thy Pleasure

Why hidest Thou Thy face from me, my Beloved?
What must I do to please Thee?
Shall I sweep the sands from the strand of time?
Or dust the stardust from the Milky Way?
Must I polish the seas flat, that they might
Mirror Thy beauty to the skies?
Or comb the grasses of the fields to the
Semblance of Thy tresses?

Would it please Thee should I make for Thee
A likeness of Thy comely face,
From mountain peaks mold twin cheeks,
Two lips and chin,
Thy nose and broad brow from lofty Everest carve?

To please Thee were more than I might compass,
Though from earth and sky I forge a bell that all will hear,
To ring Thy name to every sphere!
Even this, I fear,
Will not Thy sweet pleasure secure.

Bestow on me Thy glance of grace!
Let this poor one behold Thy face!

— Bhai Din

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