vanta vesiye bewaafaayee shavaye dildaar chha

    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?