Bright Rose

You cannot loosen the heart’s knot,
perhaps you have no heart,
no share in the turmoil

of this garden, where I yearn
but gather no roses.
Of what use to me is wisdom?

Once out of the garden,
you are at peace. I am anxious,
scorched as I search.

Even Jamshid’s empty cup
foretold the future, may wine
never satisfy my mouth,

that open circle in the mirror.
(Jamshid’s cup: the mythical Persian king Jamshid saw the reflection of all events in a wine cup.)

Written originally in Urdu
Translated by Rafiq Kathwari

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