I come bringing the gift of blood-stained tears;

O blood-money of fidelity, what is the gift of the heart?

The shreds of my clothes ripple in the air;

What’s the crime, what’s the punishment for the crime?

The tortures of love, the passions of love,

O fellow-traveller, what is morning, evening, and night?

.

If the eyes of the lustful smile,

Let them smile.

.

Go on hanging the children of many on the cross;

Let life keep on singing on the gibbet.

Give one more glass of sorrow in memory of friends.

Let night keep on singing elegies.

Let the suppleness of the hand give courage to the heart;

Let love’s moonlight shine.

.
1959

.

From: Bisāt̤-i raqṣ (Dance Carpet). Ḥaidarābād, Inḍiyā: Istiqbāliyah kameṭī jashn-i Mak̲h̲dūm, 1966. pp. 166 – 67