Cut them all, these wounded plants;

Don’t leave them, whining, withered.

 Pluck them all, these pained buds;

Don’t leave them, writhing on the branch.

.

This crop of hopes, O friend,

Will, this time, too, be ruined.

All of days’ and nights’ labour

Will, again, bear no fruit.

.

In the field’s crannies and cracks

Spread again the compost—your blood.

Again, water the soil—with your tears.:

Again, plan for the next crop.

.

Plan for the next crop

When, again, we must suffer ruin.

If just one crop ripens, we shall have enough. 

Till then, we must try again . . . and again. . . .

.
    Montgomery Jail  ∙  March 30, 1953

.

With C. M. Naim

.

From: Zindān̲ nāmah (Prison Narrative). Dihlī: Kabīr Buk Ḍipo. 1955. pp. 132 – 34

Yih faṣl umīdon̲ kī hamdam is quoted in full in Urdu Poetry, 1935-1970