I’m the old drinker in Life’s tavern,

The sweet singer in the assembly of beauty,

The target of the beauties, the beloveds’ victim. 

I’m a singer, a musician, a reciter of ghazals.

.

How attractive are the idols of my temple of faith, 

Those dear ones of the church, those antelopes of the Kaaba.

I’m all longing and love; they’re all kindness and giving.

I’m the centre of the generosity of the assembly of the beauties.

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In my glasses runs the wine of pleasure;

In my stories, little pains of despondency; 

Triumph stirs its wings in my romances;

I laugh at the mad effort of despair.

In my thoughts rolls the light of the moon;

In my speech, morning’s joy;

In my poetry, the flower’s fragrance.

I’m the soul of the garden, its life.

.

However much I may be restrained by the urge to self-adorn,

My heart is now disgusted with this pleasure of loneliness;

My eyes are not devoid of sight.

I’m an intimate of the world’s pain and sorrow.

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Why should I not want a wine glass in every hand?

Despondency, despair, and helplessness – why should they not be a story!

Let the generosity of wine, the saqi, and the tavern be for all! 

I’m a wine drinker and I live in all wine-drinkers’ hearts.

.

Now I desire that the ways of the world change,

That every eye should enjoy the intoxication of pleasure and peace,

That everybody should be dressed in satin, brocade, and sable;

It’s of no consequence that I myself own only a torn shirt.

        1943

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From:  Āhang (Melody; 1938). Dihlī: Āzād Kitāb Ghar. 1956. pp. 150 – 52