بہار تا بہ گلستان کشید بزم سرود

بہار تا بہ گلستان کشید بزم سرودنوای بلبل شوریدہ چشم غنچہ گشود

When spring made of the garden a veritable concert hall, the nightingale’s impassioned songs made buds open their eyes.

گمان مبر کہ سرشتند در ازل گل ماکہ ما ہنوز خیالیم در ضمیر وجود

Do not imagine that the clay we are; was fashioned when the world was made; for we are still a thought in Being’s mind.

بہ علم غرہ مشو کار می کشی دگر استفقیہ شہر گریبان و آستین آلود

Do not preen yourself on your scholarship. It takes much more to drink with decorum. The city jurist, when he drank, spilled his wine all over his dress.

بہار، برگ پراکندہ را بہم بر بستنگاہ ماست کہ بر لالہ رنگ و آب افزود

All that spring did was that it put together scattered leaves. It is our eye that lends colour and brightness to the tulip.

نظر بخویش فروبستہ را نشان این استدگر سخن نسراید ز غایب و موجود

This is the sign of one who has his eye fixed on his inner self: He speaks no more of present things and absent things.

شبی بہ میکدہ خوش گفت پیر زندہ دلیبہ ہر زمانہ خلیل است و آتش نمرود

One night a witty old man in the tavern made an apt remark. He said: ‘In every age there is an Abraham, and there is also Nimrod’s fire.’

چہ نقشہا کہ نبستم بہ کارگاہ حیاتچہ رفتنی کہ نرفت و چہ بودنی کہ نبود

What forms I shaped in life’s workshop! What passing things have passed away! And what things that were there are now no more!

بہ دیریان سخن نرم گو کہ عشق غیوربنای بتکدہ افکند در دل محمود

Speak gently to the idol-worshipper; for Love, that brooks no slight, laid the foundations of an idol-house in Mahmud’s heart itself.

بخاک ہند نوای حیات بی اثر استکہ مردہ زندہ نگردد ز نغمہ داودٔ

In India life’s anthem is devoid of all effect; for even David’s songs cannot breathe life into the dead.