For years these doors and housetops

On which are planted kisses of fragrant dawn,

These abodes of memories

On which the twilight of evening adorns itself,

This turn, this road

On which the fairs of sorrow are set up,

.

All these are my dear ones, my companions;

For a long time they’ve been my refuge!

They listen to the throbbing of my heart

As if to teach me:

“Spend your life laughing and talking!”

They’ve remained my hands and feet.

.

For years they’ve been my life;

For years I’ve known them;

They take pride in my fidelity,

And I too listen to everything they say.

But what has happened to my heart today

That I’m planning something else?

.

It seems as if this city of beloveds

Is a chain on my legs; 

Night is the same; day is the same; 

Every day is the same old picture; 

Every morning the same old faces 

Which become afflicted by evening.

     .

Now let’s go out somewhere else and see 

How the soft blossoms of dawn 

Receive the greetings of sunbeams; 

How the lanes rise from sleep 

And everyone goes to work 

As if busy having fun.

.

Let’s go out somewhere 

In the evening and see

Alien shadows receding hand-in-hand,

Like the rustling of grass, 

Feet walking 

Like one staggers drunk.

And there are moments of union soon approaching,

The sun of sorrow setting somewhere;

Here, the bride—of—night pouring its scent

There, the orchid tree blooming;

At every step, a new world,

At every turn, a new god.

          1960

.

From: Nayā ʻahdnāmah (New Testament). ʻAlīgaṛh: ʻAlīgaṛh Buk Hāʼūs, 1965. pp. 118 – 20