Tourists come and go to the persian marketTaking in the sights, sounds and aromas
The various merchants try to interest them in their wares
"Look at these jucy dates" says one, "smell this lovely scent" says another
"Listen to the melodius tunes from this flute" says another
"Feel the softnesss of these persian rugs" says another
And yet there comes the lover yearning for the beloved
Burnt in the fires of seperation he thirsts for nectar
The wares interest him not and the merchants realize
That this is no ordinary tourist and can never be sober
Amidst all the clamor of the busy market street
The lover catches a whiff of the beloved from afar
He ignores the merchants and runs towards the shrine
Where those who are lovestruck wait for the beloved with bated breath
Having burnt in the furnace of seperation with a shudder he knocks at the door
The door opens and the lover becomes the beloved by forgetting himself
