Raftaar-e-umr qat-e-raah-e-iztiraab hai

Life's frantic pace, a path of disarray, is. This year's whole sum, a sun-flash of a day, is.

The flask, a cypress born of spring's own sway; The wine's bright wave, a partridge-plume's display, is.

The very heel of stillness has been torn away; There is no strength to flee, no power to stay, is.

The mystic owns the world in every way; The fool believes the cosmos in decay is.

What gaze can be a match for beauty's play? When spring itself, a veil before its ray, is.

How can I soothe my heart's complete dismay? I grant, my gaze alone has won the day, is.

Asad is thrilled to hear the words you say, But envies the exchange that came his way, is.

The fowler's grim intention is on display; The bait, a tear from his last roasted prey, is.

Without the heart's eye, don't explore that way; For every leaf, a chosen page's display, is.