There’s no equal to your ‘good taste.’

This attractive evening scene, your hands holding a book.

Now consign this dry book to the mantle;

They’re making fun of you in the gathering of colour and fragrance.

In the west the gold-studded sun is about to set;

Twilight’s blush upon the clouds is worth seeing,
Its stream flows beneath the clouds

Like wine refracted in a coloured glass.

Overhanging all is a fiery hue,

The colour of chastity on a bride’s cheek;

Night’s tresses are about to flow over the shoulders of the universe;

The conclave of pleasure is about to gather in the heavens;

Birds are flying in search of their nest.

In the mirror of the moon, a dim light glows. 

Doesn’t your heart stir even a little

Seeing these enchanted evening scenes?

Are your eyes not attracted by these bewitching sights?

Doesn’t the cool breeze stir your heart?

Tell me the truth–don’t you feel

The bursting sound of the humming wind?

Don’t you feel happy looking at flowers and grass? 

If you do not acknowledge the delicacy of nature’s beauty,

Then I would say that you have no right to live.

      1932

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From: Yāden̲ (Remembrances), 1963. pp. 26 – 27

Ek dost kī ‘k̲h̲ush mazāqī’ par is quoted in full in Urdu Poetry, 1935-1970