Sorrow stalks the city streets like a hungry tiger;

Drops upon them like cold dew,

Flits across dreams often disguised as gazelles;

Sorrow, the enemy of sleep, of rest;

Only sorrow

In house and trees,

In glances, thoughts,

In hearts, souls;

In short, in every corner of the city—

Only sorrow.

On earth, in heaven, on the moon, in sunbeams,

At night, at dawn,

In thundering clouds and rain—

Only sorrow.

In this city’s songs, its music, its tales,

Its painting, its dance;

In short, in all culture, in every impression—

Only sorrow.

In short, in the living and dying of this city’s people—

Only sorrow.

In short, better to call this city

The City of Sorrow.

    October 1964

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From: Dard kā shahr (City of Suffering). Lāhaur: Naʼī maṭbūʻāt. 1965. pp. 69 – 70