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Call Me Ishmael Tonight: A Book of Ghazals
"Ali's ghazals are contemporary and colloquial, deceptively simple, yet still grounded in tradition....Highly recommended."― Library Journal The beloved Kashmiri-American poet Agha Shahid Ali presents his own American ghazals. Calling on a line or phrase from fellow poets, Ali salutes those known and loved―W. S. Merwin, Mark Strand, James Tate, and more―while in other searingly honest verse he courageously faces his own mortality.
88 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2003
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About the author
Agha Shahid Ali
24 books213 followersAgha Shahid Ali (आगा शाहीद अली) was an American poet of Kashmiri ancestry and upbringing.
His poetry collections include A Walk Through the Yellow Pages, The Half-Inch Himalayas, A Nostalgist's Map of America, The Country Without a Post Office, Rooms Are Never Finished (finalist for the National Book Award, 2001). His last book was Call Me Ishmael Tonight, a collection of English ghazals. His poems are featured in American Alphabets: 25 Contemporary Poets (2006) and many other anthologies.
Ali was also a translator of Faiz Ahmed Faiz (The Rebel's Silhouette; Selected Poems) and editor (Ravishing DisUnities: Real Ghazals in English). He was widely credited for helping to popularize the ghazal form in America.
Ali taught at the MFA Program for Poets & Writers at University of Massachusetts, Amherst, as well as creative writing programs at University of Utah, Warren Wilson College and New York University. He died peacefully, in his sleep, of brain cancer in December, 2001. He was laid to rest in Northampton, Massachusetts.
His poetry collections include A Walk Through the Yellow Pages, The Half-Inch Himalayas, A Nostalgist's Map of America, The Country Without a Post Office, Rooms Are Never Finished (finalist for the National Book Award, 2001). His last book was Call Me Ishmael Tonight, a collection of English ghazals. His poems are featured in American Alphabets: 25 Contemporary Poets (2006) and many other anthologies.
Ali was also a translator of Faiz Ahmed Faiz (The Rebel's Silhouette; Selected Poems) and editor (Ravishing DisUnities: Real Ghazals in English). He was widely credited for helping to popularize the ghazal form in America.
Ali taught at the MFA Program for Poets & Writers at University of Massachusetts, Amherst, as well as creative writing programs at University of Utah, Warren Wilson College and New York University. He died peacefully, in his sleep, of brain cancer in December, 2001. He was laid to rest in Northampton, Massachusetts.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 54 reviews
May 18, 2023
it’s easy to forget these are ghazals and i mean that as an extreme compliment. absolutely phenomenal!!!
December 29, 2020
I don't know if any other poet has written ghazals in english before but Agha Ali Shahid has done a commendable job of setting a tradition of writing ghazal in english abiding by the general rules of qafia and radeef .
February 14, 2018
I remember your wine in my springtime of sorrow.
Now the world lies broken. Is it the same for you?
*
I felt my heart growing so old in real time.
*
At dawn you leave. The river wears its skin of light.
And I trace love’s loss to the origin of light.
*
But the world did go on, unashamed, after you
Now the world lies broken. Is it the same for you?
*
I felt my heart growing so old in real time.
*
At dawn you leave. The river wears its skin of light.
And I trace love’s loss to the origin of light.
*
But the world did go on, unashamed, after you
October 31, 2020
So I'll regret it. But lead my heart to pain.
Return, if it is just to leave me again.
Break your pride, be the consoler for once -
Bring roses, let my love-illusion remain.
Still beguiled with hopes of you, the heart is lit.
To put out this last candle, come, it burns in vain.
~ Translation of Ahmad Faraz’s Ghazal by Agha Shahid Ali
Return, if it is just to leave me again.
Break your pride, be the consoler for once -
Bring roses, let my love-illusion remain.
Still beguiled with hopes of you, the heart is lit.
To put out this last candle, come, it burns in vain.
~ Translation of Ahmad Faraz’s Ghazal by Agha Shahid Ali
July 2, 2013
Beautiful, the ghazal! Beautiful the soul that wrote these poems.
jkb
When through night's veil they continue to seep, stars
in infant galaxies begin to weep stars.
After the eclipse, there were no cheap stars
How can you be so cheap, stars?
How grateful I am you stay awake with me
till by dawn, like you, I'm ready to sleep, stars!
If God sows sunset embers in you, Shahid,
all night, because of you, the world will reap stars.
jkb
When through night's veil they continue to seep, stars
in infant galaxies begin to weep stars.
After the eclipse, there were no cheap stars
How can you be so cheap, stars?
How grateful I am you stay awake with me
till by dawn, like you, I'm ready to sleep, stars!
If God sows sunset embers in you, Shahid,
all night, because of you, the world will reap stars.
November 7, 2019
Keep it by your bedside. And dip into it every night. Simply marvelous. Ghazals originally written in English!
May 24, 2021
no narrative, yes, but the VIBES. particularly enjoyed "arabic" (the first one) and "tonight" and "rain"
March 22, 2025
Here is a great book of ghazals by Agha Shahid Ali who made the ghazal popular in English the U.S. by the turn of the century and died shortly thereafter.
The Poetry Foundation has an excellent essay online by Stephanie (Steph) Burt on Ali and the ghazal called Agha Shahid Ali: “Tonight” (written in 2010) if you want to check it out. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/arti...
I loved reading this book it was recommended by Laura.
Now I recommend reading the whole book to get the full flavor of his artistry. it is really worth reading.
His Ghazals, playful and intricate, show what an accomplished poet he was. Characterized by couplets in regular rhythm, they end with a refrain which is the title of the poem. The line breaks make my heart skip a beat.
His humor: “SHAHID DEVASTATES FLORIDA is your dream headline, no hurricane will ever be named after you.” After You is the title of the Ghazal.
Agha Shahid Ali was Kashmiri, born in New Delhi India. He fervently supported the Kashmir Muslim cause. He died in 2001 but considered himself an American poet.
I liked his allusions/ dedications to other poets but they were mostly male (disappointing) with the exception of the great Emily Dickinson.
Here are some lines I liked
When Lorca died, they left
the balcony open and saw:
his qasidas braided, on the
horizon, into knots of Arabic.
The Poetry Foundation has an excellent essay online by Stephanie (Steph) Burt on Ali and the ghazal called Agha Shahid Ali: “Tonight” (written in 2010) if you want to check it out. https://www.poetryfoundation.org/arti...
I loved reading this book it was recommended by Laura.
Now I recommend reading the whole book to get the full flavor of his artistry. it is really worth reading.
His Ghazals, playful and intricate, show what an accomplished poet he was. Characterized by couplets in regular rhythm, they end with a refrain which is the title of the poem. The line breaks make my heart skip a beat.
His humor: “SHAHID DEVASTATES FLORIDA is your dream headline, no hurricane will ever be named after you.” After You is the title of the Ghazal.
Agha Shahid Ali was Kashmiri, born in New Delhi India. He fervently supported the Kashmir Muslim cause. He died in 2001 but considered himself an American poet.
I liked his allusions/ dedications to other poets but they were mostly male (disappointing) with the exception of the great Emily Dickinson.
Here are some lines I liked
When Lorca died, they left
the balcony open and saw:
his qasidas braided, on the
horizon, into knots of Arabic.
February 28, 2020
A lot I did not understand but you can definitely see he has strong expressions and rhythm. His voice is full of symbolisms from both East and West, due to his Kashmiri and American background, proved in his choice and mastery to write Ghazals in English. Will read more from him.
April 26, 2017
God, limit these punishments, there's still Judgment Day--
I'm a mere sinner, I'm no infidel tonight.
I'm a mere sinner, I'm no infidel tonight.
April 3, 2024
some of my favorite couplets. need to read more on Shahid Ali and come back to this.
Who but Satan can know God's sorrow in Heaven?
God longs for the lover He undermined from the start.
-
The dawn looked over its shoulder to ask the naked night
for the new fashions in which it could dress angels.
-
On Doosmday God asked the Pure, "Why didn't you sin?
Didn't you trust the best (ar-Rahim) about Me?"
-
The troops left our haven in the night and said
the child's skeleton was made of militant bones.
-
Masked, I hold him enthralled who's harmed me most -
I will hurt him as he's been hurting God.
-
Of Fidelity I've made such high style
that, jealous of my perfect devotion,
even the angels come down from Heaven
and beg - beg - me to stop worshipping God.
How come you simply do not age, Shahid?
Well, I wish everyone well, including God.
-
Even Death won't hide the poor fugitive forever;
on Doomsday he will learn he must live forever.
-
He's freed some fire from ice in pity for Heaven.
He's left open - for God - the doors in Hell tonight.
-
And I, Shahid, only am escaped to tell thee-
God sobs in my arms. Call me Ishmael tonight.
Who but Satan can know God's sorrow in Heaven?
God longs for the lover He undermined from the start.
-
The dawn looked over its shoulder to ask the naked night
for the new fashions in which it could dress angels.
-
On Doosmday God asked the Pure, "Why didn't you sin?
Didn't you trust the best (ar-Rahim) about Me?"
-
The troops left our haven in the night and said
the child's skeleton was made of militant bones.
-
Masked, I hold him enthralled who's harmed me most -
I will hurt him as he's been hurting God.
-
Of Fidelity I've made such high style
that, jealous of my perfect devotion,
even the angels come down from Heaven
and beg - beg - me to stop worshipping God.
How come you simply do not age, Shahid?
Well, I wish everyone well, including God.
-
Even Death won't hide the poor fugitive forever;
on Doomsday he will learn he must live forever.
-
He's freed some fire from ice in pity for Heaven.
He's left open - for God - the doors in Hell tonight.
-
And I, Shahid, only am escaped to tell thee-
God sobs in my arms. Call me Ishmael tonight.
November 19, 2021
Some of the bits I liked:
"My lover went to Chishti's mother-of-pearl tomb
And almost found, calligrapher, my shriek in marble"
"If you want your drugs legal you must leave the States,
Not just for hashish but one--bhung--beyond English"
"Now everything's left to the imagination--
a djinn has deprived even Aladin of light."
"If you leave who will prove that my cry existed?
Tell me what was I like before I existed."
He uses fillers too, but they are rare, referential, and sound. This is how his "For Time" begins:
"You who searched the world for a brave rhyme for time
Got real luck with a Guggenheim for Time"
To his credit, it is a ghazal book runs with a 1-1, x-1 rhyming.
"you've forgiven everyone, Shahid, even God-
Then how could someone like you not live forever?"
"My lover went to Chishti's mother-of-pearl tomb
And almost found, calligrapher, my shriek in marble"
"If you want your drugs legal you must leave the States,
Not just for hashish but one--bhung--beyond English"
"Now everything's left to the imagination--
a djinn has deprived even Aladin of light."
"If you leave who will prove that my cry existed?
Tell me what was I like before I existed."
He uses fillers too, but they are rare, referential, and sound. This is how his "For Time" begins:
"You who searched the world for a brave rhyme for time
Got real luck with a Guggenheim for Time"
To his credit, it is a ghazal book runs with a 1-1, x-1 rhyming.
"you've forgiven everyone, Shahid, even God-
Then how could someone like you not live forever?"
April 17, 2025
1000000000/10
June 21, 2020
Painfully bold and beautiful ghazals. I never knew ghazals can be written and that too so beautifully in english. The sadness that was deeply settled in ASA's mind reflects in each one of these which was often hard to read but I just read it in a single sitting.
Read
May 26, 2025If you leave who will prove that my cry existed?
Tell me what was I like before I existed.
(Existed)
Tell me what was I like before I existed.
(Existed)
Read
July 7, 2022CRWR Poetry and the Human, 2022
March 4, 2015
Last fall, I scored a collection of 50-60 Indian LPs at a local thrift store. Several of these were recordings of ghazals put to music. It was a literary form I'd never heard of before. The music was beautiful - performers from Pakistan, the Kashmir region and western India. Harmonium, tabla and other instruments set the backdrop for stunning lyrical explorations in Urdu, Persian or Arabic (and I can't understand a word of any of it). I loved the expressiveness of it, even with my ignorance of the language and the form. So I tried to seek out some written ghazals that I would be able to understand, and landed on this book.
I had expectations of transcendent lyrical power, formed by the music I'd heard but couldn't understand, and this book didn't (and couldn't) live up to those expectations. It's too personal to do so. Ali is saying goodbye, to friends, to life, as he's dying of brain cancer. He makes direct references' to colleagues' poetry - references I can't follow (I don't read much poetry at all, let alone contemporary stuff). And he's making his goodbyes with this literary form, which is obviously special to him for a variety of reasons, despite the limitations it might put on his words and ideas. Some of the poems fall flat for me, either because I don't follow the inside reference to others' work, or the couplets seem too scattered to me and I can't follow the emotional through-line. Others are staggering (like my favorite "Stars") in their noble and vulnerable grappling with mortality.
I guess what I want to say is, this isn't the best place to start learning about ghazals. I don't know what a good place is. But this is still a precious book.
I had expectations of transcendent lyrical power, formed by the music I'd heard but couldn't understand, and this book didn't (and couldn't) live up to those expectations. It's too personal to do so. Ali is saying goodbye, to friends, to life, as he's dying of brain cancer. He makes direct references' to colleagues' poetry - references I can't follow (I don't read much poetry at all, let alone contemporary stuff). And he's making his goodbyes with this literary form, which is obviously special to him for a variety of reasons, despite the limitations it might put on his words and ideas. Some of the poems fall flat for me, either because I don't follow the inside reference to others' work, or the couplets seem too scattered to me and I can't follow the emotional through-line. Others are staggering (like my favorite "Stars") in their noble and vulnerable grappling with mortality.
I guess what I want to say is, this isn't the best place to start learning about ghazals. I don't know what a good place is. But this is still a precious book.
April 30, 2011
I like ghazals and this poet was a great promoter of the form in America. I enjoyed reading these because of my interest in writing in this form.
To be honest I'm ambivalent about some points of the ghazal form, like including one's name or alias in the penultimate line. I'm not a fan of that. I think self-referencing in poems is hard to pull off without self-importance, although some do it well (Leonard Nathan, for example). In reading, as in looking at art, I would like to concentrate on the work, and leave the writer/artist out of it. I know in the end it's impossible, but the explicit presence of the poet when the form is adhered to strictly is one of my peeves with the ghazal. (I try to stay out of mine.)
Anyway, I like some of these a lot, including "Stars," and also some of the short two-line ghazal fragments. "Tonight," which lends a line for the book's title, was also good. (It's here: http://www.gildedserpent.com/art32/le...) But I didn't feel like my head had been taken off at any time. It was an interesting and sometimes enriching exploration, but blown away I was not. Still I'd definitely recommend it to anyone interested in this form.
To be honest I'm ambivalent about some points of the ghazal form, like including one's name or alias in the penultimate line. I'm not a fan of that. I think self-referencing in poems is hard to pull off without self-importance, although some do it well (Leonard Nathan, for example). In reading, as in looking at art, I would like to concentrate on the work, and leave the writer/artist out of it. I know in the end it's impossible, but the explicit presence of the poet when the form is adhered to strictly is one of my peeves with the ghazal. (I try to stay out of mine.)
Anyway, I like some of these a lot, including "Stars," and also some of the short two-line ghazal fragments. "Tonight," which lends a line for the book's title, was also good. (It's here: http://www.gildedserpent.com/art32/le...) But I didn't feel like my head had been taken off at any time. It was an interesting and sometimes enriching exploration, but blown away I was not. Still I'd definitely recommend it to anyone interested in this form.
November 3, 2022
MANN……!!!! How stunning, how raw. How crucial it is to write poetry—-these poems crucified me!
I love the many messages you can interpret and sort of DISPLAY / COMMUNICATE through the art of rhyme / ghanzals.
One of my favorites was the one that ended on “again?” Questioning you… poking you… I felt that throb in my heart ring; I felt it deepening in my gut.
Gosh I wish I remembered it… went something like—
“…. you again?
But were we going to let go of our language again.?
A city of lost people, were we renewed again?”
What we’re supposed to do— again?
….. again?”
My Trash example^ but this is my self note to NEVER forget this style of poetry.
I love the many messages you can interpret and sort of DISPLAY / COMMUNICATE through the art of rhyme / ghanzals.
One of my favorites was the one that ended on “again?” Questioning you… poking you… I felt that throb in my heart ring; I felt it deepening in my gut.
Gosh I wish I remembered it… went something like—
“…. you again?
But were we going to let go of our language again.?
A city of lost people, were we renewed again?”
What we’re supposed to do— again?
….. again?”
My Trash example^ but this is my self note to NEVER forget this style of poetry.
January 9, 2017
I wish I had familiarized myself with this form a bit before reading this; this lack of familiarity might be part of why this felt less accessible than Half-Inch Himalayas. This collection also contains a lot of allusions the depth of which I wasn't able to appreciate.
I like the concreteness of Ali's poems; even when they are dense, they are usually tangible and intimate. Several of the poems stirred up unexpected memories from different times in my life.
I like the concreteness of Ali's poems; even when they are dense, they are usually tangible and intimate. Several of the poems stirred up unexpected memories from different times in my life.
July 20, 2010
Good as an example of ghazals, but I connected with only a few poems.
October 21, 2018
It is Shahid, he needs not, in time, much words,
words, he knows, are facades, let’s not use much words!
words, he knows, are facades, let’s not use much words!
January 22, 2025
Swear by the olive in the God-kissed land—
There is no sugar in the promised land.
what i love about poetry books is that one read will never be close to enough. you let it sit for a moment and then reread the whole thing at least once or twice over... this book is a shining example. even here, halfway through my first reread, i still feel like writing this review is too early. i have much more to mine, i am sure; much more to uncover and let spark in my heart, delayed-action coals
i love that "arabic" began the book (after a sort of prologue with "i have loved") and then the book was ended with "in arabic", a revision of "arabic", after which the marvelous "tonight" and an epilogue of "existed". i love how arabic and in arabic were similar enough to give that sense of returning home at the end of the book, but distinct enough to feel like their own poems still. and the reiteration of the meaning of shahid when the poet has been repeatedly evoking him (or, well, himself) in the other poems
the poet talks frankly about palestine too, and america, with a dozen literary and religious and cultural references in between. he frequently calls back to or quotes other poets too whether they be contemporary or not.
and of course there is the centerpiece of it all, the ghazal. how beautiful this poem structure is.... how beautiful, how beautiful..... when the rhyme chimes each couplet it's like something fitting neatly into place, again and again. you let the bird out to fly for a bit, and draw it back to roost, and each time it goes a different path, brings back a different scavenged tidbit. it's so beautiful. there were times i had to reread the poem because i was just so dazzled by the rhymes (you know me I'm like a kid i get so excited about rhyme 😭) that i wasn't properly processing what the poem was actually saying GSJAVAJA
there were some that felt a little disjointed to me, but we'll see if i change my mind on future rereads -- for now, though, that knocks it down from 4 to 3½ stars
There is no sugar in the promised land.
what i love about poetry books is that one read will never be close to enough. you let it sit for a moment and then reread the whole thing at least once or twice over... this book is a shining example. even here, halfway through my first reread, i still feel like writing this review is too early. i have much more to mine, i am sure; much more to uncover and let spark in my heart, delayed-action coals
i love that "arabic" began the book (after a sort of prologue with "i have loved") and then the book was ended with "in arabic", a revision of "arabic", after which the marvelous "tonight" and an epilogue of "existed". i love how arabic and in arabic were similar enough to give that sense of returning home at the end of the book, but distinct enough to feel like their own poems still. and the reiteration of the meaning of shahid when the poet has been repeatedly evoking him (or, well, himself) in the other poems
the poet talks frankly about palestine too, and america, with a dozen literary and religious and cultural references in between. he frequently calls back to or quotes other poets too whether they be contemporary or not.
and of course there is the centerpiece of it all, the ghazal. how beautiful this poem structure is.... how beautiful, how beautiful..... when the rhyme chimes each couplet it's like something fitting neatly into place, again and again. you let the bird out to fly for a bit, and draw it back to roost, and each time it goes a different path, brings back a different scavenged tidbit. it's so beautiful. there were times i had to reread the poem because i was just so dazzled by the rhymes (you know me I'm like a kid i get so excited about rhyme 😭) that i wasn't properly processing what the poem was actually saying GSJAVAJA
there were some that felt a little disjointed to me, but we'll see if i change my mind on future rereads -- for now, though, that knocks it down from 4 to 3½ stars
June 25, 2024
Bittersweet, urgent and musical in its rises and falls. A small book of poetry that thuds heavily on impact, and grows with you the longer you roll the lines over your tongue and in your head.
"Air"
Drink this rain-dark rum of air
column of breath column of air.
"Existed"
If you leave, who will prove that my cry existed?
Tell me what I was like before I existed.
"Land"
Swear by the olive in the God-kissed land--
There is no sugar in the promised land.
What must the bars turn neon now when, Love,
I'm already drunk in your capitalist land?
If home is found on both sides of the globe,
home is of course here-- and always a missed land.
The hour's come to redeem the pledge (not wholly?)
in Fate's "Long years ago we made a tryst" land.
Clearly, these men were here only to destroy,
a mosque now the dust of a prejudiced land.
Will the Doomsayers die, bitten with envy,
when springtime returns to our dismissed land?
The prisons fill with the cries of children.
Then how did you subsist, how do you persist, Land?
"Is my love nothing for I've born no children?"
I'm with you, Sappho, in that anarchist land.
A hurricane is born when the wings flutter...
Where will the butterfly, on my wrist, land?
You made me wait for one who wasn't even there
though summer had finished in that tourist land.
Do the blind hold temples close to their eyes
when we steal their gods for our atheist land?
Abandoned bride, Night throws down her jewels
so Rome-- on our descent-- is an amethyst land.
At the moment the heart turns terrorist,
are Shahid's arms broken, O Promised Land?
"Air"
Drink this rain-dark rum of air
column of breath column of air.
"Existed"
If you leave, who will prove that my cry existed?
Tell me what I was like before I existed.
"Land"
Swear by the olive in the God-kissed land--
There is no sugar in the promised land.
What must the bars turn neon now when, Love,
I'm already drunk in your capitalist land?
If home is found on both sides of the globe,
home is of course here-- and always a missed land.
The hour's come to redeem the pledge (not wholly?)
in Fate's "Long years ago we made a tryst" land.
Clearly, these men were here only to destroy,
a mosque now the dust of a prejudiced land.
Will the Doomsayers die, bitten with envy,
when springtime returns to our dismissed land?
The prisons fill with the cries of children.
Then how did you subsist, how do you persist, Land?
"Is my love nothing for I've born no children?"
I'm with you, Sappho, in that anarchist land.
A hurricane is born when the wings flutter...
Where will the butterfly, on my wrist, land?
You made me wait for one who wasn't even there
though summer had finished in that tourist land.
Do the blind hold temples close to their eyes
when we steal their gods for our atheist land?
Abandoned bride, Night throws down her jewels
so Rome-- on our descent-- is an amethyst land.
At the moment the heart turns terrorist,
are Shahid's arms broken, O Promised Land?
February 12, 2018
I read this because I was intrigued to learn more about the ghazal form of poetry. And I do feel I have a good sense of the technical form of it now, though most of the poems in this book still don't particularly cohere well for me, either as a whole or in their individual couplets. I noticed this author also edited a collection of ghazals, and so maybe reading more by a variety of people will help.
February 21, 2019
No conocia este formato de poesia/cancion llamado Ghazal.
El formato en si me ha encantado, me gustaria leer mas.
Los contenidos de este libro sin embargo no me han llamado tanto. Las conexiones entre conceptos me han parecido en muchos casos imposibles. Quiza es mi limitada inteligencia o imaginacion, simplemente no he sido capaz de conseguir que me transmitieran algo en muchos casos.
El formato en si me ha encantado, me gustaria leer mas.
Los contenidos de este libro sin embargo no me han llamado tanto. Las conexiones entre conceptos me han parecido en muchos casos imposibles. Quiza es mi limitada inteligencia o imaginacion, simplemente no he sido capaz de conseguir que me transmitieran algo en muchos casos.
July 11, 2020
I loved the concept of ghazals in English - but perhaps having only heard this poetry style in Urdu and Sindhi - I found it was lacking - it didn't have the musical quality. I loved the play on words and themes that to me is so quintessential to Ghazals but it made me feel that English is really a very unpoetic language
September 13, 2019
Interesting form and quite enjoyed the use of words and themes used in rhyming. The writing has a spiritual/religious tone but there were a lot of references made: which, were at times a bit obscure. However, the poetics did their justice. Evocative and endearing.
November 2, 2020
line i highlighted:
“white men across the U.S love their wives curries - I say O No! to the turmeric of it all”
“now Friend, the Beloved has stolen your words - Read slowly, the plot will unfold in real time”
“white men across the U.S love their wives curries - I say O No! to the turmeric of it all”
“now Friend, the Beloved has stolen your words - Read slowly, the plot will unfold in real time”
June 11, 2025
beautiful, affecting work. i haven't studied ghazals much so it's a gift to have a collection filled with them, of varying lengths and topics and cultural textures. so rich in meaning, could return to this time and time again to continue dissecting it.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 54 reviews