Whether pearl, crystal, goblet, or jewel,

What is broken is broken;

How can it be mended with tears?

What is broken is thrown away.

.

Downcast, you sit

Gathering up and hiding the pieces in your lap;

There is no saviour of crystals.

Why do you sit hopefully in vain?

.

Perhaps somewhere in these pieces

Is that heart-goblet where, sometimes,

The fairy of the wine of love’s sorrow

Might appear with great coquetry.

.

People of this earth robbed you

Of the goblet, then shattered it,

Letting its wine run in the street;

They broke the guest’s bright wings.

.

Perhaps these colourful pieces are

The bright crystal dreams

With which you, in your intoxicated youth,

Used to adorn your solitude.

.

Poverty, work, hunger, sorrow

Vied with these dreams; the shower of 

Stones from all sides was merciless;

What else could these crystals do?

.

Perhaps somewhere among these pieces

Is the pearl of your honour

Which makes your humility

Envied by poplar-tall men.

.

Merchants and robbers

Used to seek out that precious good.

This is a city of thieves. Here,

If a poor man’s life is spared, his honour is not.

This goblet, crystals, rubies and pearls

If kept intact bring a good price;

If broken as they are now, they only

Pierce the heart and make you weep blood.

.
.

~~~

.

Downcast, you sit, 

Hiding the pieces in your lap;

There is no saviour of crystals.

You sit with hope, in vain.

.

Sewing the torn garments of memories—

When will that make the heart live on?

Putting one stitch in, pull one out—

.

In this workhouse of life where

This goblet and crystals are hewn,

Replacements can be found for everything;

All laps can be filled.

The hand which stretches forth here is victor;

The eye which looks up gains wealth,

Wealth and fortune without end.

But thousands of thieves lie in wait.

.

When will the shops of life

Be emptied by thieves’ pillage and plunder?

Here every mountain is filled with diamonds,

Every sea with pearls.

.

Some people 

Draw curtains about this wealth,

Auction off

Every mountain, every sea.

.

Some fight

To tear these drapes,

To confuse

Every ploy of the thieves of life’s wealth,

.

These two battles 

In every neighbourhood, in every city,

Within the breast of every home,

Upon the forehead of every road.

.

The first go about spreading darkness;

The others light lamps;

The first scatter fire;

The others work to drown these flames.

.

 

~~~

.

Every goblet, crystal, ruby, and pearl

Are wagered in this game;

Rise up! All empty hands

Are called to this battlefield.

.

With C. M. Naim

.

From: Dast-i ṣabā (Hand of the Wind). Dihlī: Senṭral Buk Ḍipo, 1952.pp. 83 – 92

Shīshon̲ kā masīḥā koʼī nahīn̲ is quoted in full in Urdu Poetry, 1935-1970