On Death

Expresses the 18th Century Sufi poet Khwaja Mir Dard the deep sentiments of his romanticising with death. The English translation needless to say loses a lot of valuable sentiments but nonetheless, something that I felt, I should share with you as it communicates the deep emotions and sentiments of futility that each one of us experiences in romanticism with death.

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I put on myself,

many a blame,

before I left ...

for I only did that

for what I came,

before I left

Is this life,

or a rough storm

I suffered,

in this life time

that I lived

before I left ?

Gentle breeze!

What's my business

with blossoms ?

I left in a flash,

as I came,

before I left.

I had come

to this world alone,

nothing in hand

I carried the world,

all the same,

before I left.

Saqi !

It is time to leave,

hurry up please

fill my cup - let me drink,

be aflame,

before I left

Dard! Can you tell me,

who we are -

you and me ?

I knnew not

from where I came,

nor I knew my aim,

before I left ?