The fire of love burnt Rizvan to death,
Although that demon had his home in Lanka, surrounded by water.

Mir, the sadness of a burnt-out heart never goes away,
Faced with her beautiful face, the candle-flame dies.

/12/ The rose has taken on her color
just as one candle is lighted from another.

Fire eats away all that it encounters, wet or dry,
But I, like the candle’s flame, only consumed myself.

Mir, do not shed tears when the heart is on fire–
It’s no use sprinkling water on a conflagration!

Bones shiver and burn away–
What a fire has love lighted here!

A splinter of lightning must still be lurking
somewhere in my house.

Today Mir’s house was an ash-heap; he had been smouldering for years,
Perhaps last night he burnt himself away.

Mir, the scar of my ravaged heart is bright in the night–
Love has lit a lamp even in such a wilderness.

Author: Sajjaad Hussian Peerbhai