The Spinner of your loom, O Beloved, slaughters today,
The weaver's form.
No mullah found the path, none came, none went away.
Alas, what has become of the hidden, the weaver's form?
The Spinner of your loom, O Beloved, slaughters today,
The weaver's form.
No eye dares open, the closed doors, the painted forms remain.
Behold, the mad potter, consumed by love, the weaver's grief.
The Spinner of your loom, O Beloved, slaughters today,
The weaver's form.
Some give, some ask, no second voice responds.
Some give, some ask, no second voice responds.
The heavens laugh to watch the stars depart.
The Spinner of your loom, O Beloved, slaughters today,
The weaver's form.
Color my shawl, in the blue of yearning.
Today I hide, you'll spill all hues.
Color my shawl, in the blue of yearning.
Today I hide, you'll spill all hues.
Seven colors I hold, the eighth I seek.
The eighth, the color of love.
The love of the land, the love of the world, the deepest dye.
Seven colors I know, the eighth, the Divine.
Thus, the branch is dyed, hidden from view.
As dawn breaks, seven colors dissolve in water.
The eighth dissolves in the heart.
Seven colors dissolve in water.
The eighth dissolves in the heart, the Divine hue arises.
The color of love, the veil of the Divine opens.
The darkness is dyed.
In seven colors I'm clothed, in the eighth, a dream.
Peace on earth, a dream, a dream of my own.
And this dream of yours. Color my shawl, in the blue of yearning.
Today I hide, you'll spill all hues.
Like a dream, the color of red powder.
Like a tender ray, the color of sixteen years.
Like a firm ray, the color of thought.
Like a dream, the color of red powder.
Of tender hands, the body's white attire.
Of tender hands, the body's white attire.
One, the courtyard of earth, dyed, one, a watchful home.
These two seasons unite now, of summer and winter.
These two seasons unite now, of summer and winter.
Like a dream, the color of red powder.
Like a tender ray, the color of sixteen years.
Like a firm ray, the color of thought.
Today's first ray, a virgin, rising, embracing auspiciousness.
I pour this handful of color into the celestial Ganges.
What hue is found, that is akin to it?
Like a dream, the color of red powder.
In this color, I'll dissolve the whispers of my heart.
In this color, I'll dissolve the whispers of my heart.
Some spoken, some unspoken, the heart's ocean waves.
O, this is my enemy, the impossible. Like a dream, the color of red powder.
Like a tender ray, the color of sixteen years.
Like a firm ray, the color of thought.
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