Tonight, when my notes are so discordant,
And the much abhorred tears flow,
As if the floodgates are wide open,
I can hear the sighs of Petrarch’s lover.
With my love story still etched in my mind,
I think of the agonized moments,
The entombed dreams, as sad as
The solitary bell of death,
I remain enclosed in the deep strata
Of my emotional nature.
I listen to the clear tones of the whirlwind,
Neither harsh, nor rude
And the tinkling laughter of lovers,
Like the tinkle of bangles,
I say to myself,
‘Alas! The night is too short.’
A secret and surreptitious glance
With a pacifying message
Could have gone down
The vortex of my grief
To create a smile.
I never looked for words of love,
To pop up like daisies.
I simply needed a touch,
The way Majnoon touched Laila,
Absolutely shaking the world—
As sweet as mono-floral honey
Produced by bees from flowers
Of the Manuka tree.