S. R. Faruqi:

(1) The more I got it mended, the more rips it suffered.
Finally I stopped altogether, leaving my collar alone.

(2) My heartfelt longing to enjoy the kindness of friends from the garden was unfulfilled.
The shade of the cypress and the rose never touched my head.

(3) I had a mind to go and make myself a small fakir's abode on God's throne,
but I ended up spreading my bedding right here in the dust.

(4) A lifetime of anticipation , then it happened: we chanced to meet when no one else was present.
Fearfully, I told you a little about my condition, my feelings.

(5) It's not as if I came here merely to compose Rekhta,
but I did put up something like a performance of it for a few short days.

(6) I managed to get into the garden yesterday and visit with the birds there
and freely taste and enjoy the beauty of the rose.

(7) It can't be without significance: my wounds seem fresher and brighter every evening.
Oh the sadness of it! Did I extinguish someone's lamp out there somewhere?

(8) Far away from you I battered my head among rocks and barren lands for a time.
I refreshed everyone's memory of Qais and Farhad.

(9) Driven by my restless and unhappy heart I finally embraced death,
but I gained no sleep or comfort even under the earth.

(10) Yet another cruel blow: in the season of autumn, oh Mir,
I was obliged to fasten my heart to dry straw and thorns.

 

FWP:

(inspired by SRF's translation)

(1) As fast as I got it sewn up, it kept on ripping!
Now my collar is-- 'out of my hands'.

(2) I longed in vain for the kindness of my garden friends.
The rose and cypress never sheltered my head.

(3) I had a notion to go and dwell in the heavens,
but now I've spread my bedding here in the dust .

(4) After a lifetime, when I somehow found you alone,
I fearfully told you a little about myself.

(5) I didn't come here just to compose Rekhtah!
It was merely a show, to pass a little time.

(6) Finally yesterday I went into the garden, and along with the Nightingale
I finely enjoyed the fineness of the rose.

(7) My wound is so freshly radiant every evening--
Ah, did my sighing blow out someone's lamp?

(8) Without you, I spent some time in the wilderness, beating my breast.
I reminded everyone of Qais and Farhad.

(9) When I died of the agitation of my restless heart,
Then even under the dust I found no rest.

(10) One further fresh cruelty, Mir-- that in autumn
I had to attach my heart to straw and thorns.

 

Zahra Sabri:

Zahra Sabri is a special guest translator for this site.

(1) Rip after rip developed, even as I got it mended
Now, I’ve just withdrawn my hand from this collar and given up

(2) The unfulfilled longing remained in my heart for the affection of those in the garden that I hold dear
I never experienced the shade of the rose and the cypress above my head

(3) I had it in my mind to go up to the heavens and build my faqir’s abode there
But now I have spread my bedding out in the dust

(4) After a lifetime, when I finally got a private moment with you
Hesitatingly, with trepidation, I told you some of what I have gone through

(5) I didn’t come here just for writing Urdu poetry
For a few short days, I dabbled in showing this spectacle

(6) At length, upon going into the garden yesterday and meeting with the nightingale
I greatly enjoyed the greatness of the rose’s beauty

(7) The renewed freshness of my wound every evening is not for nothing
Ah, who knows whose lamp I blew out

(8) By hitting my head against rocks in the mountains and deserts awhile
I awakened again the memory of Majnun and Farhad

(9) I had passed away through the restlessness of my disturbed heart
And I could not find repose beneath the ground either

(10) This was again a fresh oppression, that in the autumn season, ‘Mir’
Without remedy, I attached my heart to sticks and straws