Then a 

cold—shriveled day

stepped softly from the balcony 

into my room

seeing me curled up 

in my bed

smiled

and sat in 

the easy chair

took the clock in its lap

and turned the hands

when with tired feet 

it returned to the balcony

darkness leaped 

from every side

and devoured it.

.

From:  Āk̲h̲irī din kī talāsh (Search for the Last Day). Allāhābād: Shabk̲h̲ūn Kitāb G̲h̲ar, 1968. p. 37