Junoon tehmat-kash-e-taskeen na ho gar shaadmaani ki

Let not my passion be accused of seeking calm or gain, For life's true flavor is the salt one sprinkles on the pain.

Why struggle to be free from all of being's endless strife? The very chain that binds the wave defines its flowing life.

The madman's tomb, when he is gone, is where the children stone; The sparks from every blow are like a shower of roses thrown.