What Should I Say How Should I Say Whom Should I Say Poem by Akhtar Jawad

Did I commit something wrong, what's that wrong?
He doesn't talk to me.
Any slip from my side, what's that slip,
I'm speaking to him, he doesn't listen to.
He should speak,
While parting when I said
Goodbye
Till tomorrow what he used to say!
What he used to do
and today, he said only
, Good bye.
He went and didn't turn his face
and didn't see me!
His eyes were silent
and his lips static
He just went, no phone call by now.
He did not become restless in the office!
No problem,
it often happens so.
He is a man who laughs always
sometimes he cries,
let me cry, too.
Let me wash my heart.
When the pleasant evening will come
and when drunkenness will rule the all
when on the darkie body of the evening,
moon will shower as moonlight,
when stars on the blue sky with smiles,
will come out for the naught,
when breasts of the evening flowers
will erect with a twist
and aroma will be scattered
he will come to steal my senses
to redress my grievances,
to wrap all things in his magic
to awake the sleeping beloved,
though not sleeping, just acting,
to turn the tears in smiles
to flatter his crossed beloved,
and yes, I forgot one thing
he'll come with a pack of gift,
But before he comes,
today, I shall makeup like a bride,
then enjoy someone's condition,
and then I shall be cross with him.
O evening hurry up today,
my heart beets are increasing
and my heart whispers to me,
we shall refresh the lost springs.
The moon and stars will see
how we love each other,
and shy buds will hide in the leaves.
The wind will move like a drunk,
and then he will enter me as a magic
and again I'll turn into aroma,
once again I'll be a bride.
He'll remove the veil from my face,
and shall sing a song for me.
He will lose his senses
and shall make me senseless, too,
whatever I have will be excited
all colors I have will emit a few rays.
Tell me in such a moment
colorful and delicate
any other purpose of life can be
just love only love,
all other feelings and sentiments
will be shy and leave the place,
shall sleep somewhere like the children.
These were the games playing that
life has passed.
Why I don't see in the world anymore,
this joy, this pleasure, this compromise,
not even in my children.
Whom should I teach the ways of love,
Who will listen to my songs?
Whom should I say, "Love like this,
Change a hot morning in a pleasant evening
and change the evening in a lovely night.
Flatter her if she is cross,
and a little cross when she smiles.
Don't waste your time,
live like a robber of love.
Very soon the silver will appear in the hairs,
and the days gone will never come back."
But whom should I say?
Who will listen to me?
I don't see anyone like her,
I don't find anyone like me.

(Based on my Urdu poem Keya Kahoon, Kisse Kahoon, Kayse Kahoon)