Gulshan ko teri sohbat az-bas-keh khush aayi hai

The garden by your presence is so exquisitely pleased, that every bud's unfolding is an open-armed release.

There, scorn's high battlement is always at its greatest height, while here, my cry makes the reverse claim that to reach it is its right.

For sorrow teaches one the art of holding back its might, what seems a scar is but a tear held trembling in the sight.