The city of Baghdad* is graced With tall,
elegant cypresses,
My fond memories of that fair city.
Tear my heart to shreds,
Like waste cloth in a tailor's shop.
Wearing a cloak made with these shreds,
I will join the beggars in the lanes of Baghdad
And beg for alms, calling out:
'O Meeran, Meeran, my beloved Master! ' **
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Here The Baghdad nothing else just the master of the eternal soul come o traveler stay a while here feel you both life mystically