vuchh me kun vaara lagay......

    My heart is consumed with longing,
    Waiting for you, wasting away !
    My life lies offered at your feet.
    O bless it with your look of grace !

    All flowers of the field, one after another -
    Yemberzal, hyacinth, rose and masval --
    Lay down their lives in adoration.

    Each one enters the garden fully equipped
    With his peculiar essence - the gul with fire,
    The bulbul with the music of the heart.

    Some souls in the garden are awake, while some
    Are inebriated by delusions and passions -
    The fountain heads of all strife !

    Some have narrow horizons, some are wearing
    Various fetters of the mind - and all lie trapped
    In the snares spread by the superb hunter.

    That the beloved will soon arrive
    Fills the bulbul with delight, and all flowers
    Have donned the flowing robes of spring.

    From the gardener's eyes the same love flows
    To all flowers It's only the florist
    Who picks and chooses flowers.

    We now have flowers made of paper.
    They have become a rage ! And this new passion
    Fills all the bulbuls with gratitude!

    It's a tale of love, Mahjoor ! Make your language sweet
    Appeals and laments can't vibrate with life
    Without the leaven  of love !

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