“One moment I saw a river flowing gently.
The next, all bridges washed away.
One moment I saw a bush flowering.
The next I saw no rose or thorn – just branches.
One moment I saw a cooking fire blazing.
The next just ashes, no fire or smoke.
Pleasures spread like poppies.
You seize the flower, the blossom drops.
We are like snow falling in a river –
a moment white, then melted forever.
I don’t trust what is
being said through me –
not for a moment!
Still I drink the wine of my own words,
then I seize the darkness that arises and
tear it into little pieces.
As the moon wanes,
I find a mad person roaming inside,
longing for the Beloved.
I call out to soothe her pain –
‘It is I, Lalla, … I!’
The Beloved appears, and
all further sensing and doing
Lalla, 14th century CE, Kashmir