(Bang-e-Dra-165) Ye Surood-e-Qumri-o-Bulbul Faraib-e-Gosh Hai

Ye Surood-e-Qumri-o-Bulbul Faraib-e-Gosh Hai
Batin-e-Hangama Abad-e-Chaman Khamosh Hai

These songs of turtle doves and nightingales are merely ear’s illusion
Behind this uproar the world of the garden is silent

Tere Pemanon Ka Hai Ye Ae Mai-e-Maghrib Asar
Khanda-Zan Saqi Hai, Sari Anjuman Be-Hosh Hai

O Western wine the effect of your goblets is only this
That cup‐bearer is laughing and the entire assembly is unconscious

Dehr Ke Gham Khane Mein Tera Pata Milta Nahin
Jurm Tha Kya Afreenish Bhi Ke Tu Ru-Posh Hai

In the world’s sorrowful house you are not traceable
Was creation also a crime so Your nature is concealed?

Ah, Dunya Dil Samajhti Hai Jise, Woh Dil Nahin
Pehlu-e-Insan Mein Ek Hangama-e-Khamosh Hai

Ah! What the world considers heart is not heart
In the human breast this is a silent tumult

Zindagi Ki Rah Mein Chal, Lekin Zara Bach Bach Ke Chal
Ye Samajh Le Koi Meena Khana Bar-e-Dosh Hai
.
Walk on the path of life but walk carefully
Understand that some glass work is on your shoulders

Jis Ke Dam Se Dilli-o-Lahore Hum Pehlu Huwe
Ah, Ae Iqbal! Woh Bulbul Bhi Ab Khamosh Hai

Through whom Delhi and Lahore were drawn together
Ah! Iqbal that nightingale is silent now.