I have a grievance against you, brother: when leaving,

You took with you the book of my past life;

I had many precious pictures in it:

My childhood, my youth.

While leaving, you gave me in exchange

The burning, blood-shot rose of your sorrow;

.

O my brother, what should I do with this honour? 

Shall I wear it on my person?

Take from me the account of all my torn garments;

For the last time, please accept my plea.

So far, I had never returned from you disappointed;

Come, take away this shining flower

And give me back the book of my past life.

.

18 July 1952

.

From: Dast-i ṣabā (Hand of the Wind). Dihlī: Senṭral Buk Ḍipo, 1952. pp. 66 – 67