The Song

The night pillars over, heavy and strong: 
the wind carries whispers of a holy song-  
it catches onto my ear.  
 
In the shadow of darkness, there is a voice that sheds light,  
but that melody is not of demons nor angels, 
Nay, it burns fiercer than the fires of Persia,  
and is brighter, purer than the eternal sun.  
 
That song weaves through the stars and doorways of heaven,  
seeping deep beneath the layers of sand and time.  
It announces itself as certainly as the coming of death,  
and yet it is difficult to hear, to find.  

I hum its tune, discarding another of utmost deprivation- 
it robs of all earthly wishes and song.  
It replaces it with a hymn much greater- 
a hymn of utmost beauty and splendor:
 
That tune is not of this Earth nor sky. 
 
One tune of it is enough for me to wander in a state of loss.  
But with heeding that call, what can I lose?  
This song roars over the people's heads;  
Few can catch on to it as it flies.  
 
It shakes the earth and oceans, it tears the skies.  
With such might it echoes, yet its call is soft, 
the angels and beasts are entranced within it,  
and in listening, a sea of comfort shall arise.  
 
A single call inviting me is enough to make me drunk, 
to stumble and groan as I walk in plight.  
If it invites me to the east, I’ll surpass the palaces of India;  
A call from the west is enough to surpass the sky.  

Shall a call come from the North I’ll succumb to its soothing voice;  
A call from the south will make me doze off and fly.  
If light were to shed from the sky or from the ocean,  
I’d burn and drown in its layers of lies.  

 Oh, how I long for that voice to call me, be it from a mount or a cave, How I long for the call Moses beheld from the fire on Mount Sinai. Then I too shall wander to Tur or the caves of Hira, and the olive tree. Until to my calls and my songs, I get the Caller's reply.  
 
That song has reached, the call has been delivered- 
My hums are in harmony to its tune. 
My sacred response has just started its journey back