No one will sigh; then put her wet cheeks on my burning lips;

I won’t get angry at the silence of colourful lips; no one will be put out at my fearless speaking;

I won’t hear the sound of the beating of a fragile heart; no one will be startled by my suffocating sighs;

On hearing my footsteps, no one will come towards me with unsteady steps;

She won’t see my madness on display; no one will try to wrestle with her tangled hair;

Someone will pine for this somewhat prattling talk of mine from which innocent glances used to get their pride;

O unhappy heart! But what will be gained from your silence? No one’s understood your cry now; not one will understand now.

I’ve learned that this hand extended to me would not be pulled away from me;

I’d understood that now togetherness will remain until the Day of Judgement; I was happy that no one would leave me.

Why worry if no one worries about me; why should I be sad if no one will ask after me.

What concern should I have with those tears of people who won’t wipe any of my flowing tears.

O sorrow of the heart! If she’s self-respecting, let her be so; tell her that no one will love her in this fashion.

Unhappy heart! Again, you want to express fidelity; no one, but no one, will believe what you say!

O heart, I won’t ever go there by mistake . . . alas, no one will look with those special glances.

I’ll swear by the setting moon that I won’t ever go there . . . no one will understand my sleepless glances.

O night of sorrow! I won’t go there; I won’t . . . no one will play with a sobbing heart 

O Jazbi, because my glances are avoiding her, my paths are becoming even darker.

          1941

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From:  Firozān̲ (Resplendent Things). ʻAlīgaṛh: Anjuman Taraqqī-yi Urdū (Hind), 1960. pp. 93 – 95