Such very soft air! The lamp has gone on flickering.

Minds have gone on filling with the aroma of thoughts of you.

.

Memories of your smile have come to the hearts in the same way 

Lamps brighten up temples.

.

In the drawn sword, the new world is reflected.

Today Life and Death seem to be extremely proud. 

.

The rival of the wounded bosom and of the fire of love’s sorrow

  Is neither the torn collar of flowers, nor the scars of poppies.

.

Those in whose present time the sorrow of the future may flare up 

Are the apple of the eye of the gathering of Life.

.

Everything is the flame of the flower, everything is the wave of spring

Since gardens bloom as far as the glance of desiring can see.

.

New earth, new sun, new world.

I have heard that these days Love endures abundantly.

.

Carrying those accusations which a whole world could not bear,

The sinners of love went on, unscathed.

.

Lamps are lit from the footprints of that very person

Who, having hidden himself from the eyes of the stars, steps forth.

.

Your eye is becoming a world of secrets,

For in some such way it is seeking out the clue of hearts.

.

The age, having said: ‘This fire, too, having licked blood, 

Will become a garden,’ jumped into the fire.

.

The entire world’s eye is fixed on a new horizon

Because the clue of some emanating rays is being found.

.

Now such is the condition of the scars of love in the hearts,

As if at the end of night the lamp looked drowsy.

.

O Firaq, the gathering of drinkers is a mahfil of lamps;

The cups overflowing with melted fire are arranged all in rows.

.

From: Gul-i nag̲h̲mah (Flower Songs), Part 1. Allahābād: Idārah-yi Anīs-i Urdū, 1971. p. 93