A few days more, my love.

Just a few days more.

We are bound to breathe under the shades of tyranny;

Let us suffer tyranny for some time; let us writhe, cry.

It is the legacy of our birth; we have no way out.

The body a prison; emotions in shackles;

Thought confined; punishments for sing.

Even then, we continue to live by our course. 

Is Life a poor man’s garment,

Each moment a sorrow patched upon it?

But the days of tyranny are numbered;

Be patient a while; only a few more days of lamentation;

We must live in the burnt-out desolation of time,

But not as we are now.

Today we suffer the unspeakable tyranny

Of heavy foreign hands;

We must suffer today, but not forever.

The dust of misery clinging to your beauty—

The scars of defeat upon your brief youth—

The useless burning passion of moonlit nights—

The futile throbbing of the heart, the despondent cry of the body—

        A few days more, my love; just a few days more.

            

.

From: Naqsh-i faryādī (Image of the Supplicant). Dihlī: Urdū Ghar, 1941. pp. 67 – 68

Cand roz aur merī jān is quoted in full in Urdu Poetry, 1935-1970