On The Bank Of The Ravi
Na Puch Mujh Se Jo Kaifiat Mere Dil Ki
Raft in its music, in evening’s hush, the Ravi;
But how it is with this heart, do not ask—
Jahan Tamam Sawad-e-Haram Huwa Mujh Ko
Hearing in these soft cadences a prayer‐call,
Seeing all earth God’s precinct, here beside
Khabar Nahin Mujhe Lekin Kahan Khara Hun Main
The margins of the onward‐flowing waters
Standing I scarcely know where I am standing.
Liye Hai Peer-e-Falak Dast-e-Raishadar Mein Jaam
With palsied hand the taverner of heaven
Has brought the cup: red wine stains evening’s skirt;
Shafaq Nahin Hai, Ye Suraj Ke Phool Hain Goya
Day’s heading caravan has made haste towards
Extinction: twilight smoulders like hot ash of the sun’s funeral pyre.
In solitude far off, magnificent, those towers stand,
Where the flower of Mughal chivalry lies asleep;
Koi Zaman-e-Salaf Ki Kitab Hai Ye Mehal
A legend of Time’s tyranny is that palace;
A book, the register of days gone by;
Shajar,Ye Anjuman-e-Be-Kharosh Hai Goya
No mansion, but a melody of silence—
No trees, but an unspeaking parliament.
Huwa Hai Mouj Se Mallah Jis Ka Garm-e-Sataiz
Swiftly across the river’s bosom glides
A boat, the oarsman wrestling with the waves,
Nikal Ke Halqa-e-Hadd-e-Nazar Se Door Gyi
A skiff light‐motioned as a darting glance,
Soon far beyond the eye’s carved boundary.
Abad Ke Behar Mein Paida Yunhi, Nihan Hai Yunhi
So glides the bark of mortal life, in the ocean
Of eternity so born, so vanishing,
Nazar Se Chupta Hai Lekin Fana Nahin Hota
Yet never knowing what is death;
For it may disappear from sight, but cannot perish.