S. R. Faruqi:

(1) My existence is like a bubble's;
What seems to be life is rather like a mirage.

(2) Can anyone at all express how delicate are her lips?
They're rather like the petals of a rose.

[The point here is that the rose petal seems bluish when crushed. So do her lips when crushed with kisses.]

(3) Open your heart's eyes on that other world too.
What is found here is worth rather less than a dream.

(4) I go to her door again and again
in a growing state of uncontrollable agitation.

(5) The beauty mark between your brows is rather like a selection dot between the two lines of a verse.

[Ghazals in Urdu are written generally with two lines of a verse opposite each other in the same line. The reader customarily put a dot between the two lines of a verse to indicate approval, sometimes with the view of compiling a selection.]

(6) I spoke a few words at her door , and at once she said: this voice
is surely like his, that home destroyer, that homeless fellow.

(7) Is my heart being roasted by the fires of sorrow?
For quite some time there has been something rather like the scent of kabobs around here.

(8) Just look, the cloud this time billows out
somewhat like my tear-filled eyes.

(9) Those half opened eyes, oh Mir,
are intoxicated themselves and they go to the head like wine.

 

FWP:

(inspired by SRF's translation)

(1) My existence is like a bubble.
This show is like a mirage.

(2) About the delicacy of her lip-- what can be said?!
It's like a single petal of a rose.

(3) Open the eye of the heart on that world too!
The situation here is like a dream.

(4) Time after time I go to her door.
My condition now is something like-- distraction.

(5) With the dot of the beauty-spot, your eyebrows
are like a verse that's marked out for its merit.

(6) When I spoke, she said, 'This voice
is just like that good-for-nothing's voice'.

(7) In the fire of grief a heart has roasted, perhaps.
For some time, there's been a smell like a kabob.

(8) Look-- the style of the cloud, at present,
is like that of my water-filled eyes.

(9) Mir, in those half-open eyes
is all intoxication, like that of wine.

 

Zahra Sabri:

Zahra Sabri is a special guest translator for this site.

(1) Our existence is like a bubble’s
This display is like a mirage

(2) How shall I describe the delicacy of her lip?
It’s like a rose petal

(3) Open your heart’s eye on that other world too
The reality of this world is like a dream’s

(4) I go to her door again and again
My state is now like that of uncontrollable agitation

(5) Through the dot of your beauty-mark, your eyebrows
Are like a verse marked out for a selection

(6) When I spoke, she said, “This voice
Is like that same good-for-nothing vagabond’s!”

(7) My heart’s been roasted in the fire of grief, perhaps
For a long while, there’s been a kebab-like smell

(8) Look, the mode of the cloud this time
Is like my moisture-filled eyes

(9) “Mir”, in those slumberous, half-open eyes
All the intoxication is like that of wine