Song of the Restless Stream

BY HABBA KHATOON

The world its Ramadan will end,

     The lover's Id,

The feast of love, O call him, friend!

     For love is Id.

 

But love has melted me like snow,

     A waterfall,

As restless as the summer streams

     I sleepless go !

 

O, call him gently, friend, O call !

     With wreaths and dreams

I carry wine to Dara's peaks'

    The world below.

 

And yet he roams in distant vales,

     New wine he seeks !

If he comes not, the jasmine pales,

     And I, and all !

 

 

Kashmir, 1554-1609