Zeb-un-Nissa

Zeb-un-Nissa: "Here is the path of love---how dark and long
Its winding ways, with many snares beset!
Yet crowds of eager pilgrims onward throng
And fall like doves into the fowler's net.

Now tell me what the grain that drew the dove?
The mole it was upon a cheek so fair.
Tell me of what was wove the net of love?
The wandering curls of the Beloved's hair.

The festival of love is holden here,
The goblet passes; drink thou of this wine,
Yea, drain it to the lees, and never fear
Intoxication that is all divine....

But Makhfi, tell me where the feast is made?
Where are the merry-makers? Lo, apart,
Here in my soul the feast of God is laid,
Within the hidden chambers of my heart. [V: pp.31-32]"

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