The moon and those stars—candles on the sea of darkness—were broken;

O storm, the funny thing is: the anchor of the boat, too, was broken.

.

My despondent heart was not affected by your glance;

It was as if these delicate daggers were blunted on an insensible piece of wax.

.

What mourning can there be for those hopes, when they come into the heart, burn to ashes.

What’s the use of the sky crying for stars which burn for a moment, then fall?

.

I used to cry for tears; now I am crying often;

I didn’t even have a gem before; now I have thousands which I break and throw away.

.

All crystal and goblets were dancing from the intoxication of my eyes alone;

All crystal and gibbets were broken from the heat [anger] of my eyes alone.

.

This, godly throne of love, O Bird of Paradise [Gabriel], is mine; come to your senses.

Even the wings of imagination were broken in that rather useless attempt.

.

You, suffering from the sorrow of love, O Jazbi, cannot believe that

Knives are being broken in that heart in which even stones were broken!

.
            1937

.

From:  Firozān̲ (Resplendent Things). ʻAlīgaṛh: Anjuman Taraqqī-yi Urdū (Hind), 1960. pp. 75 – 76