Haath seena pe mere rakh ke kidhar dekhte ho

You place your hand on my chest, but your gaze is turned elsewhere; If you must look, then look with heart—is that too much to bear?

My final breath is leaving now, a sight for you to hold; You bring a mirror to my lips, but your own face you behold.

Don't ask about this wasting state, this weakness plain to see; Are you observing my decline, or your own symmetry?

The candle-tree is ringed with wings of moths that flew too near; This is the fruit of love's long fall, the harvest that you see here.

When you observe the willow, named for Majnun's endless grief, Do you, O seers, see the man beyond the trembling leaf?

The Ghost of Longing came to stand beside my corpse to jeer: "Whose path do you still watch for now? Why do you gaze from here?"

You ask of Zauq the strange delight he finds in sorrow's dart? He only licks his lips when you observe that wounded part; You see the gash inside his liver, and he savors what you see.