365bet娱乐

AKTHAR NAZMI
(Translated from Urdu by Shamsuddin)

There stood, somewhere

In the vicinity of this valley,
A ruin, solitary and desolate
And, just by the same,
Existed an abode, which
You may well call it,
A refuge of solace
For a heart-wreck and love-lorn.

Call it, if you please,
A tomb of tender yearnings.
It had witnessed warm pursuits of live,
I t had, as well realised,
Frozen hope and frustration, in my being,
Compassionately, it had extended me,
Not only shelter, but support as well,
To my sinking hopes.

Was quite familiar with the cadence
The love-stricken heart produced,
And, was fully alive, wonderfully
With every secret beat of heart.

Sweet melodies were they
Of promises, passionate and
They were love songs,
That kindled hope and faith.

This same abode on earth
Was, I am sure, a fountain source
Of all melody, and all romance.

Oh! this abode was the only custodian

Of the secret treasures.
Which I had treasured.
In the innermost recess of my heart.
Was a faithful companion
Ever extending me needful consolation.

With bouquets. I know not how many!
Of sweet recollections, but all withered.
Pressed to its bosom the abode
Expectantly looked for me
O鈥� how love-sick it used to be for me!

To find its trace
I Wander here. I Wander there.
O鈥� what has become of it?
O鈥� where has vanished my solace?

Looking for me, restlessly
For decades, trying and tiresome,
And, losing all hopes, at last
Overtaken by disappointment,
It must have sunk down聽 to sleep
In the very ruin, alas!

For me, an only refuge it was
Now it exists no more, alas!