'Jehangir lives', says every 'chinar' leaf;
And the waters tripping down the terraces
Chant his name always.
Most monuments are almost as dead
As those they would commemorate,
But this, decaying, revives with every spring.
The tree trunks grow enormous,
Forgiving sins of court and marketplace.
Love is alive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem