She feels lonely, my sister at heart,
and I feel happy, the plight is hard.
Why happiness springs in me, is unknown;
maybe I feel her my fate’s other twin.
What do I do to console her? Nothing,
is enough to tame the uncomfortable,
the disheartened, the touch-me-not,
the tortured, and the devastated; save hope.
Hope - I have in gallons, saved afresh
in pots of concern stacked in my eyes.
I will empty before thee those salty peers,
and let you picture me in darkness, morose.
I will let you hear my sacred ghazal’s,
comforting, as you cry in rhythm of its dwells.
The imitation of the world, I fear
you may see in my guise and tortuously
I station my mind in a firm behold.
Acting before thee is my only abode;
you are precious to me, my only pal left!
Why happiness springs in me, I know now;
you are here now; I can say bye to sorrows.
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