The city of Baghdad* is graced With tall,
elegant cypresses,
My fond memories of that fair city.

Tear my heart to shreds,
Like waste cloth in a tailor's shop.

Wearing a cloak made with these shreds,
I will join the beggars in the lanes of Baghdad

And beg for alms, calling out:
'O Meeran, Meeran, my beloved Master! ' **