GUZARTI BARSAAT AATEY JAADOn KE NARM LAMHEY
HAWAAOn MEIn TITLIYOn KE MAANIND UD RAHEY HAIn
MAIn APNEY SEENEY MEIn DIL KI AAWAAZ SUN RAHAA HOOn
RAGOn KE ANDAR LUHOO KI BOOnDEIn MACHAL RAHI HAIn
MIREY TASAWWUR KE ZAKHM KHURDAA
UFUQ SE YAADOn KE KAARWAAn Yon GUZAR RAHEY HAIn
KE JAISEY TAAREEK SHAB KE TAAREEK AASMAAn SE
CHAMAKTEY TAAROn KE MUSKURAATEY HUJOOM GUZREIn
MAIn QAID KHAANEY MEIn ISHQ PECHAAn KI SABZ BELOn KO DHOOnDTAA HOOn
JO PHAIL JAATI HAIn APNEY PHOOLOn KE NAnHEY NAnHEY CHARAAGH LE KAR
KAHAAn HAIn WO DIL NAWAAZ BAAnHEIn
KE JIS PE AnGDAAIYOn NE APNEY HASEEn NASHEMAN BANAA LIYE HAIn
MAIn APNI MAAn KE SUFAID AAnCHAL KI CHHAOn KO YAAD KAR RAHAA HOOn
MIRI BAHAN NE MUJHEY LIKHAA HAI
NADI KE PAANI MEIn BED KI JHAADYAAn ABHI TAK NAHAA RAHI HAIn
PAPEEHEY RUKHSAT NAHIEn HUYE HAIn
ABHI WO APNI SURELI AAWAAZ SE DILOn KO LUBHAA RAHEY HAIn
MAIn RAAT KE WAQT APNEY KHWAABOn MEIn CHAUnK PADTAA HOOn JAISEY MUJH KO
AVADH KI MITTI BULA RAHI HAI
SUFAID AATAA SIYAAH CHAKKI SE RAAG BAN KAR NIKAL RAHAA HAI
SUNHEREY CHOOLHOn MEIn AAG KE PHOOL KHIL RAHEY HAIn
PATELIYAAn GUNGUNAA RAHI HAIn
DHUEIn SE KAALEY TAWEY BHI CHInGAARIYOn KE HOOnTOn SE HAnS RAHEY HAIn
DOPATTEY AAnGAN MEIn DORIYOn PAR TAnGEY HUYE HAIn
AUR UNKEY AAnCHAL SE DHAANI BOOnDEIn TAPAK RAHI HAIn SUNHERI PAGDAnDIYOn KE DIL PAR
SIYAAH LAHnGOn KI SURKH GOTEIn MACHAL RAHI HAIn
YE SAADGI KIS QADAR HAEEn HAI
MAIn JAIL MEIn BAITHEY BAITHEY AKSAR YE SOCHTAA HOOn
JO HO SAKEY TO AVADH KI PYAARI ZAMEEN KO GOD MEIn UTHAA LOOn
AUR USKI SHAADAAB LAHLAHAATI JABEEn KO
HAZAAROn BOSOn SE JAGMAGAA DOOn
The vanishing rains, the fine moments of the ensuing winter
are in flight like butterflies.
I hear the beats of the heart in my chest.
The beads of blood are unruly in the veins.
The caravans of memories
are passing through the wounded horizon of my imagination
in such manner
as if the grinning masses of the bright stars
pass through dark sky of a dark night.
I, in the prison, search for the verdant vines of ishq pechaan
which grow luxuriantly with their tiny lamps of flowers.
Where're those alluring arms,
those branches of sandalwood
on which the oscitations have built their lovely nests?
I recall the shadow of the white stole of my mother.
My sister has written to me
[that] the bushes of cane are still bathing in the water of the river;
the cuckoos haven't left yet;
they're still fascinating the hearts with their melodious voice.
I, at night, get astounded in my dreams as if
the earth of Avadh is summoning me.
White flour, like melody, is streaming out of the black mill.
The flowers of fire are blooming in the golden hearths.
Pots are humming.
The pans, which have turned black because of soot, are also chuckling with the lips of sparks.
Mantles are hang on lines in the courtyard
and light greenish drops are falling from their hems.
On the chests of the golden pathways
the red piping of the black skirt are glistening.
How exquisite is this simplicity!
I recurrently contemplate sitting in the jail
[that] if I can I should take the charming land of Avadh in my lap
and should burnish the forehead of its exhilarating and verdant land
with thousands of kisses.