* * *

On bed the fair one is asleep,
Her face her tresses cover;
Go your home, O Khusro, now
Night has fallen all over.

poem by Amir Khusro, translated by Sunil Uniyal
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Celebrate Spring Today

Rejoice, my love, rejoice,
Its spring here, rejoice.
Bring out your lotions and toiletries,
And decorate your long hair.
Oh, you're still enjoying your sleep, wake-up.
Even your destiny has woken up,
Its spring here, rejoice.
You snobbish lady with arrogant looks,
The King Amir is here to see you;
Let your eyes meet his,
Oh my love, rejoice;
Its spring here again.

[Translated from 'Aaj Basant Manaalay']

poem by Amir Khusro
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Rains Have Come

Dear Mom, send my dad across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your dad's too old; the rainy season has come.
Dear Mom, send my brother across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your brother's too young; the rainy season has come.
Dear Mom, send my uncle across; the rainy season has come.
Oh, dear daughter, how can I?
Your uncle's too dandy; the rainy season has come.

poem by Amir Khusro
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Just a glance

You've taken away my looks, my identity, by just a glance.
You've taken away my looks, my identity, by just a glance.
By making me drink the wine of love-potion,
You've intoxicated me by just a glance;
My fair, delicate wrists with green bangles in them,
Have been held tightly by you with just a glance.
I give my life to you, Oh my cloth-dyer,
You've dyed me in yourself, by just a glance.
I give my whole life to you Oh, Nijam,
You've made me your bride, by just a glance.
You've taken away my looks, my identity, by just a glance.

poem by Amir Khusro
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Dear Father

Why did you part me from yourself, dear father, why?
You've given houses with two stories to my brothers,
And to me, a foreign land? Why dear father, why?
We (daughters) are just cows tied to your peg,
Will move on to where ever you drive us to, dear father.
We are just flower-buds of your garden,
And are asked for, in every household, dear father.
We are just birds from your cage,
Will fly off when its dawn again, dear father.
I've left at home, alcoves full of dolls;
And parted from my buddies too, dear father.
When my palanquin passed beneath the terrace,
My brother fainted and fell, dear father.
As I remove the curtain from the palanquin,
I see we've reached the beloved's house, dear father.
Why did you part me from yourself, dear father, why?

poem by Amir Khusro
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Couplet

Oh Khusrau, the river of love runs in strange directions.
One who jumps into it drowns, and one who drowns, gets across.

1
The creaking of the chain of Majnun is the orchestra of the lovers,
To appreciate its music is quite beyond the ears of the wise.

2
If I cannot see her, at least I can think of her, and so be happy;
To light the beggar's hut no candle is better than moonlight.

3
My heart is a wanderer in love, may it ever remain so.
My life's been rendered miserable in love, may it grow more and more miserable.

4
People think they are alive because they have soul in them,
But I am alive because I have love in myself,
And I'm a martyr due to the beloved's affliction,
(for, to a lover, nothing is dearer than

[...] Read more

poem by Amir Khusro
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