What new troubles has Heaven again brought on me?
Who can tell what will be their end?
As Aurungzeb's prisoner it has borne me away from my home;
Many a town and village have I passed on my way.
When the Pathans look on my condition, they burn with rage:
At the sight of me they burst into cries and tears;
Great and small, they run out to gaze upon me;
Alike of Hind and Mussulman is lamentation.
I smile upon all as I pass by them,
For well I know how great is their concern.
Not alone am I the victim of tyranny and oppression;
Fate is hard — to all alike there is no appeasing it.
Wherever I stop, armies collect to guard me;
I am treated with fear and respect, as though a Tiger or an Eagle.
The Elephant when standing looks mighty as a mountain;
But when he falls, as of two mountains is the shock.
Pierced through and through is my heart, it is as a sieve;
To be separated from one's loved ones is a grief that knows no solace.
Perchance it may be that Fortune will again befriend me,
All my people tell me that this will soon be so.
If a golden bracelet fall into a furnace,
It loses not its value, though it loses of its shape.
By all other support has Khush-hal been deserted;
There remains alone to him his trust upon his God!