Once he consulted a doctor;
He had lost for long his laughter.
The doctor prescribed him some cure
Which would produce the effect sure.
He used enough pills and portion
Under the doctor’s direction.
But he found no alteration
In his thoughtful disposition.
After an ample duration,
He apprised of his condition
(same as before) to the doctor
Who was dazed knowing it, after.
He again thought on the matter,
And tried to advise him better.
“You should read the mirth stories
Of the writer *Shaukat Thanvi’s”
At this he said to the doctor,
“I am myself the same writer.
I have lost for long my laughter
Which my readers have won, Doctor.”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem