nahin hai zakhm koi bakhiye ke darkhur mere tan mein

No wound I bear is worthy of a stitch to heal the stain, The thread of hopeless tears now fills the needle's eye, in this pain.

The ruin of my home denies my eyes the world's domain, The flood's own foam now blocks the window like a cotton skein, in this pain.

Reproach now checks the frantic, wild despair I would maintain, My friends' own laughter stitches up my rents, a mocking chain, in this pain.

I know not if I'm good or bad, my context is profane, A flower in a furnace burns, a weed in gardens reigns, in this pain.

Love's madness gave me thousand hearts, a passion I can't chain, Each drop of blood becomes a core of darkest, blackest stain, in this pain.

My heart, my faith, my reason, by her radiant presence slain, The mirror's soul becomes like ants that swarm upon the grain, in this pain.

Asad, I'm jailed by love for beauties who my pleas disdain, The hand that once caressed me now has forged my neck a chain, in this pain.