The Orchard of Garib Nawaz is always in bloom
Without limits, it is forever spring and no gloom.
Sages to Emperors sure have their satiety;
Drunkards to gamblers demanded no piety.
The Orchard is cool clear running brook
And fruit laden trees at every nook.
As also the calm warm healing air
Those cure of sorrow and despair.
This exquisite garden of Sultanul Hind
Bears for Anwar fruits without a rind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem