These beautiful bracelets of Motia,
This Kagal, this henna,
Glassy bangles and a tray of red-roses,
Beautiful are the green Anchal and scarlet suit,
Life is loaded with the episodes,
Many dismal but a few cheerful.
My son died,
A short awhile after his birth,
Fineness combined with all delicacies,
Affects both adamant hearts and minds,
Kneels and bows only before Almighty,
Humility, grace in perfect womanhood,
Who inscribed consternation
In your eyes after reading,
The lines of my hands?
Alas! A dove sitting today
On the termite-eaten branch of peace,
Looks sometime towards the garden
And sometime towards her curtailed wings.
You went across the seven seas,
It seems as if several centuries have elapsed.
The seasons of union came and went away,
But all tired, exhausted.
O! Friend you departed form us
(An Acrostic Tribute To Mehdi Hassan)
Mellowness of your melodies will remain
Ever, forever in the world with us all behind,
The light went out as usual,
The darkness harassed me,
I beheld in my own room,
A ghost-like image as we often see,
Humanity can not help making
The devilish weapons,
Each nation is running the race
Of inventing the fatal devices