ميں اورتو

Neither I have Kalim’s knowledge nor you have Khalil’s manners; I am destroyed by Samiri’s magic, you are the victim of Azar’s method!

I am the scalded, unsung song; you are the faded colour, the departed fragrance. I am the tale of grief’s longing; you are the narration of love’s mourning!

My grief is pleasure, my poison is honey, my existence is companion of annihilation. Your heart is Haram, captivated by the Ajam; your din has been purchased by infidelity!

Loss of life is its essence; concern for life is its poison. Do not be sad for loss; do not take grief’s poison as this is the way of qalandari!

Do not care for poverty and affluence, if your dust has a spark; because in the world Haider’s strength depends on bread of Sha‘ir.

O Haram’s lamp tell me some such method of circumambulation; which would again grant to your moth the same salamander’s nature!

The complaint of friendly cruelty which the Haram has against its people; if I relate in some temple even the idol would call out ‘Hari Hari’.

Neither the world’s battle-fields nor the arm-twisting enemies are new; the nature of Asad-ul-Lahi as well as Marhabi and Antari are the same.

Mercy! O Arab and Ajam’s Lord (S.A.W.), as waiting for benevolence are those beggars who bestowed by you with the mind of Sikandar are.