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#Bibi Jan Hayati
majestativa · 4 months
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If you must adorn yourself, you should become a diver in the profound ocean of rhetoric, breaking open the pearl-laden oysters of verses, till you gird about yourself an ode of decorative jewels.
— Nur ‘Ali Shah, Women of Sufism: A Hidden Treasure, to his wife Bibi Hayati, (2003)
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majestativa · 4 months
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True manhood is courage. The real man is one who never retreats, who remains constant once he has put down his feet in search of perfection.
— Nur ‘Ali Shah, Women of Sufism: A Hidden Treasure, as cited by his wife Bibi Hayati, (2003)
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majestativa · 4 months
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The sun of his loveliness, in whose atmosphere the bird of my soul soared like a moth of dancing light.
— Bibi Hayati, Women of Sufism: A Hidden Treasure, on her husband Nur ‘Ali Shah, (2003)
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majestativa · 4 months
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Tonight the Saki, lips stained red Like rubies, pours forth wine [...] To each ecstatic’s taste.
— Bibi Hayati, Women of Sufism: A Hidden Treasure, (2003)
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majestativa · 4 months
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Is this a scorching lightning bolt; Or fire radiant from Mt. Sina’i? Or my burning sigh, Or your innate character? Is this Mongolian musk, Or unadulterated ambergris? [...] Is this a chalice of the red wine of dawntide Or White Magic? Your narcissus-like eye, in a drunken stupor Or your sorcery? Is it the garden of Eden Or an earthly paradise?
— Bibi Hayati, Women of Sufism: A Hidden Treasure, (2003)
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majestativa · 4 months
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Soul-sated by his pure-hearted wine, To what fountain of life could she incline?
— Bibi Hayati, Women of Sufism: A Hidden Treasure, (2003)
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majestativa · 4 months
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How ever again will one behold The moon’s glory If, over the heart his visage beams blazing, like the sun? Through the soul, the Turks of his eyes Ravage, charge, while, those curls of blasphemy, Tresses of infidelity, subvert our faith. But once were he to lift the veil from his face the world would be nullified, the universe stupefied.
— Bibi Hayati, Women of Sufism: A Hidden Treasure, (2003)
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majestativa · 4 months
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Is this then the Night of Power Or merely—your hair, Is this the dawnbreak, or your own face? In the divan of Beauty Is it an immortal first distich?
— Bibi Hayati, Women of Sufism: A Hidden Treasure, (2003)
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