Who will make me mad again

Who will make me mad all over again
When again will these words light up
With, “How soon can I tell her this!”
Who will churn my stomach
With a distracted gaze.
Who will madden my music
With her finger drumbeat on my head
Who will brighten my dawn
            Through the fringes of her hair

When will I be able to reach for the phone
Whenever a song moves me
Who will remove these fog-glasses from my eyes
When will the colours return
When will the world look young again
When will my eyes mist over
Without reason
Whose hand will lead me
            Out of this endless loneliness

Who will listen to Rashid Khan’s Sufi
Who will recast Amir Khusrau
Who will rage with anger
Who will shame with sorrow
Who will pull me back into her arms regardless
Whom will I undress slowly, to the strains
            Of Hari Prasad Chaurasia
Who will flow her love cascading
Who will fill the dry channels of my life, O
Who will make me mad
            . . . all over again