| From whence has to us this Spring-tide returned |
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| Saidst thou, "Grieve not, for I am thine, and thou art mine" |
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| Glad to me the time when I fly to my beloved one |
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| Did fear but reach thy heart, how good it were! |
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| When the time for the bloom of the roses comes |
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| My grief is ended, now has come the time of gladness |
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| A Khatak, when he mounts on horse-back |
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| When from Libra moves the Sun |
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| What though outwardly are bonds |
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| Great was the splendour and beauty of Delhi |
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