Classic Poem

O morning breeze, shouldst thou pass by Khairabad,
Or should thy way lead thee by the side of Surai's stream,
A thousand thousand greetings take from me:
Thither from me countless good wishes bear —
To mighty Indus shout them out with Fervour;
But to the Lundi stream in whispers softly tell them.
Perchance again my lot may let me quaff thee,
I shall not ever dwell beside the Ganges and Jumna:
If of Hind's climate I complain, what shall I say?
Still greater than on its climate is the curse upon its water;
He who drinks its river water, it tears forth his bowels;
Not without danger is the water of the wells.
Since no cold mountain torrents are in Hind,
Curses upon it! though it be filled with dainties.
Yet will no man remain always without hope in the world;
On the distressed will compassion at length be showed by the Merciful One.
The wounded one is ever in expectation
That of his wound the blood will staunched be.
God grant that I again may meet my loved one,
From whom apart from myself two-thirds are parted!
Yet the wise bear no rebellious longings
Anent the treatment which the Physician orders.
Not for ever will Khush-hal remain in Hind:
At last from Hell will find release the Sinner.