With the light of my eyes as an ofering,
I'll prostrate myself at my beloved's feet,
And pour out my heart to him

O spring breeze ! I'd like to ask:
You brought full bloom to dried up lakes;
How could you forget my scalded heart ?

The flaming fire of love burns up
Impure lusts of the flesh, and the lover
Is free from the fetters of desire.

He played me false at the weir,
Leaving me floating in the middle of the river -
A trapped and helpless scapegoat.

In a lovely boat - he's so fond of tours ! -
I'll take him to the Ahrabal fair,
With my cups brimming over with love.

I'll show him the Yusmarg meadows,
Spread a velvet carpet under his feet,
And make the larks of Nilanag sing for him.

Cascading tears from my eyes
Will put Nishat and Ahrabal into the shade !
What else do I have to boast of ?

On the banks of the Hakura stream,
At Sangarwan or Nagabal,
I'll gaze at him from the heights.

With shehnais playing down the bank of the Sindh,
I'll steer my boat to Manasbal,
Where I'll remind him of his pledge.

He leaves me perplexed - which he always does
To put the blame on me ! - Is he now in retreat,
Enjoying~the breezes at Chadura spring ?

Should my love come to rest under Mahjoor's chinars
With the soft breeze blowing from the Arigam stream,
I'll spread jessamine under his feet !