Ghulam Ahmad Mahjoor

3 September 1885 − 9 April 1952 / Metragam, Pulawama, Jammu and Kashmir / India

Beloved, How Cruel You Have Been To Wreck My Heart

Beloved, how cruel you have been to wreck my heart,
Baking it slowly over a smouldering fire !

Couldn't you spare a night, and slowly whisper
Loving words, with no frown on your face ?

Dressed in royal robes, you came through the dark
At dawn; and when the evening shadows came,
Glided slowly out of the garden.

You softly opened the eyes of the buds,
Filled them with envy of your smiling face,
And left them to slowly fade away.

I'll wait for him in the garden in midwinter frost,
For who knows my flowers may slowly bloom again !

You plied me with many a cup, and left me
Quite unstrung ! Where have you slowly disappeared ?
Why leave me forlorn so young ?

I offer you my life, O quintessence of purity,
Whose grace makes virtue lodge even in those unworthy !

If you do not fail to visit me in dreams,
It'll be a slow balm to the agony of separation.

Mahjoor's heart is in a whirlpool of grief and pain.
O, slowly tune the strings of the rabaab of love !
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