Maze jahaan ke apni nazar mein khaak nahin

The world's delights, for which men care, are naught but empty air, Save my heart's blood; my heart is more than empty air.

The wind might lift me if I turned to dust up in the air, But as it is, my wings and strength are naught but empty air.

What heavenly presence makes its grand arrival there? No dust is on the path, just roses in the air.

If she feels nothing, I should pity my own prayer; My futile breath, without effect, is naught but empty air.

The mystics, wrecked by visions of the Rose so rare, See tavern walls and doors as naught but empty air.

I am ashamed by love, which left my whole house bare; Save for the ghost of building, it is naught but empty air.

My poems, Asad, are now a frivolous affair; This show of skill, I've learned, is naught but empty air.