Jis ja naseem shana-kash-e-zulf-e-yaar hai

Where gentle breezes comb the Beloved’s flowing hair, The very scent of Tartary’s prized musk is in the air.

O God, what vision leaves my wonder in despair? A six-fold world of mirrors, waiting for a sign, is in the air.

Each atom aches with longing, a burden it must bear; If this desire’s the trap, the desert is the snare.

The heart’s the plaintiff, and the eye defendant must declare; The lawsuit for a single glance once more is in the air.

The dew now weeps upon the rose-leaf’s mirror of despair; O nightingale, the parting of the spring is in the air.

I am obsessed with just the promise I must bear; Whether she comes or not, my endless wait is in the air.

Go not unveiled through Majnun’s valley, be aware; Behind each grain of sand, a restless heart is in the air.

O nightingale, one fist of straw, a nest you would prepare; The hurricane of coming spring’s arrival is in the air.

Don't lose your heart; if not the goal, the journey is a prayer; O restless soul, an image in the mirror still is in the air.

My life’s secured by heedlessness, my joy by Asad’s flair; O sudden Death, why does your hesitation hang there in the air?