The city of Baghdad* is graced With tall,
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