Dekhna qismat ke aap apne pe rashk aa jaaye hai

My fate is such, I envy my own way; How can I see her? My sight slips away.

If thought itself holds such a fiery sway, Then give up on your heart; the glass will melt away.

How can she stop my rival’s bold display? When modesty arrives, she turns and looks away.

My passion’s habit is to sigh and pray, My heart’s so frail, a breath brings it dismay.

Bravo! Far from your glad court may evil stray, Where even my sad sighs become a lovely lay.

Her cold neglect, a veil for love’s own way, But I am lost so deep, she finds the truth straightway.

Hearing how she adorns her court each day, My heart becomes my rival’s wish, and turns to clay.

A lover now, that fairy-face seems to decay, Her color blooms the more it seems to fade away.

The portrait scorns the painter’s every way; The more he draws it close, the more it pulls away.

My shadow flees from me like smoke, Asad, in disarray; Near this soul of fire, tell me, who could ever stay?