surma-e-muft-e-nazar hoon meri qeemat yeh hai

I am the kohl that's free, a gift of light; The debt that burdens the beholder's eye is my light.

O cruel one, let my lament take flight, Lest my own hidden sorrow come to light is my light.

My journey's world is in a blister's night; My frenzy's narrow desert, burning bright, is my light.

This wildness comes not from the will to fight; My collar's tear is Majnun's yawn, in plainest sight, is my light.

My mind perceives the heart's chaotic flight; In what tongue can you capture, can you write of my light?