vanta vesiye bewaafaayee shavaye dildaar
O friend, should one,
as beautiful as the moon,
Delight in breaking hearts by playing false in love ?
He plunged into my
heart his pointed dart,
Showing no more pity than a swordsman in war.
He shot me from afar,
but how could I hide the wound ?
O how beautiful he is, but how cruel his sport !
O archer! Was the
forked shaft that pierced my heart
Tongued with fire, or dipped in the deadliest venom ?
What's sliding down his
robes may be coils of snakes,
Tresses of hyacinths, or meadows where bulbuls sing !
Lovers in mortal pain
take heart when they behold
Those twin breasts - an elixir for ailing souls !
He slipped out by
subtle stealth, but I'll seek him out
In his favourite haunts - Pari Mahal, Telbal, Dal or Shalamar.
My lot is tears!
Leaving me lonesome and broken, he's gone!
Who knows where ? - Prang or Brang or Drang or Kotahar!
Who has appeared at
break of dawn, rattling at the door ?
A thief or a drunk - or could it be sweet-throated Mahjoor?