Mian Muhammad Bakhsh

(1830-1907 / Khari Sharif, Kashmir / Pakistan)

Saif-Ul-Malook 04 - Poem by Mian Muhammad Bakhsh

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The pots of the nori, filled with tears, turn and empty them into soul,
Not for every will this hustle be, nor the good times.

If love has been absorbed by a heart, it never leavers it,
Even if it comes a thousand beauties, the beloved is never exchanged.

Your support is my refuge O Allah., I cannot think of anything else
The lamp which you light yourself, how can anybody extinguish?

The key of every difficulty, my friend, has been acquired by men,
When men pray, no difficulty remains.

To talk of the special in front of the ordinary is not at all appropriate,
(It is like) cooking a sweet dessert and placing in front of dogs.

Not for ever the bulbul sings in the garden, not for ever is the enjoyment of spring,
Not for ever is mother, Father, Beauty, Youth; not for ever is the company of friends.

Not for ever will the waterfowl sit, not for ever will the water be high,
Not for ever will the girlfriends have their hair braided, not for ever will they will wear the lipstick.

The companions are being carried away (to grave), we will also be carried away,
We won't again get hold of this time, Muhammad, after it passes.

Not for ever the palms red with henna, not for ever will the bangles make a sound,
Not for ever, wearing their jewelry, will the friends sit together in company.

Not for ever will the paper be sold in the bazaar, not for ever will the hustle be in the cities,
Not forever is the good time of youth, not for ever are these waves in the river.

How many times I have broken my Tawbah? I am not trustworthy,
Again I offered Tawbah at your doorstep, please forgive, O the one who forgives.

Black faced, ashamed, Sinner, How can I come to you door?
Raising a convict to the level of a friend is your golden generosity.

In the world who did no help in bad and good times,
From that useless companion, friends are better alone.

One should not be proud of immense beauty, who is the inheritor of beauty?
Not for ever will the branches be green, not for ever will be the flower of the garden.

Grant me perfect love, O Allah; may I turn my face away from all else,
May I know only One, see only Only, say and seek only One.

He gardens, spring, thousand of flowers, I cannot smell the fragrance anywhere,
From nowhere could I smell the fragrance of the friend, I spent the life in this hope.

A sad person listen to what a sad person has to say, he recognize its value,
What is that sad person who does not share the secret with a sad man?

Without the appointed hour, soul doesn't leave the body, one cannot leave the world,
The tough one holds the pains, Muhammad, one is powerless to do anything.

Without asking, you fulfill longings, immeasurable, countless,
For the kindness which you bestowed on me, I am grateful with every breath.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, September 20, 2012



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