Ghazals: Poems 1–10

1. From town to town the traveller wandered, and forgot the way home

From town to town the traveller wandered, and forgot the way home;
what is yours and what is mine, his own and others', he forgot.

What did he forget, how, and why, you ask? Just understand it so:
there is no cause, no blame; the simple innocent forgot.

What days they were, what nights, what talk, what secret plans!
The heart is a child; it forgot first love's lovely dream.

From the darkness a ray peeped out, looked, and grew shy;
the dim image stayed in memory, but what the face was like it forgot.

Caught in the turns of memory, the heart took such a deadly blow
that the strange secret, joy in sorrow and sorrow in joy, it forgot.

It is the matter of one glance, one moment: the thread of breath.
The light of a glance faded; when a moment passed, it forgot.

It is no matter of good sense; the heart is wayward and drunk:
it dashed its head on wave after wave, and forgot the deep sea.

2. Life is a torment to me

Life is a torment to me;
I need to meet you.

In my heart at every moment there is only one thought:
to what degree I love you.

Your face, your tresses, your dress:
only these things draw me.

Now the secret of life has been laid bare to me:
from now on, life to me is desire for you.

The pace of time is very swift,
and I have very little leisure.

The breath that has passed has passed;
only this thing grieves me.

The sigh is mine, the smile is yours;
that is why even pain is ease to me.

Now there is no longing for union in my heart;
now I am free of everything.

Now neither that passion of desire remains,
nor have I that frenzy of love.

Now life will pass just like this;
now this alone is a mercy to me.

3. The moon and the stars are all prisoners in the jail of time

The moon and the stars are all prisoners in the jail of time,
but I am free, Saqi (cup-bearer), in a little wine cup.

Life is passing, life is lasting: I do not care about that at all;
you just tell me how long it will take to come and go.

When was distance from you distance? Near and far are illusions;
there is no difference in losing a priceless jewel and finding it again.

Blind youth lasted two moments; I have paid in full for my folly;
why should all of life be spent weeping in regret?

First I was mad for you, now I am mad for myself;
the madness is the same, there is no difference in the madman.

Joys came? Well, let them come; what is it to me? I have no feeling.
I have forgotten all my senses in singing songs of sorrow.

How shall I tell my own story? It is a matter of drunken rapture:
Meeraji's life was spent in a tavern close by.

4. Laugh, and the world will laugh with you; you will have to sit and weep alone

Laugh, and the world will laugh with you; you will have to sit and weep alone;
shedding tears quietly, quietly, you will have to wash the heart's grief away.

The world's ways are hostile: whatever pearl drops from the eye
you will have to pick up with your eyelashes, and string with your eyelashes.

Everyone knows that life has been named losing and finding,
but no one has seen its secret, what is to be found and what lost.

Unwished, unspoken, in a moment breaking to bits and made whole again:
the child still thinks there must be some such toy.

That dear ones should meet their dear ones: when will the impossible come to pass?
How will thorns turn to flowers, when will the bed of ease be spread?

Drifting on, the stormy sea with its million whirlpools was of no use;
now, in midstream, with my own hands I must sink the boat of life.

Whatever the heart wished in error, in error it is bound to go;
nothing came of thinking and thinking; come now, it must be lost.

Why lose courage while alive, why these laments, why these cries?
In the course of things, whatever is to be will be at last.

Meeraji, why let thought torment you? On every eyelash the thread trembles;
whatever colour fate may show, you will have to take into your heart.

5. The heart has become lost in beauty

The heart has become lost in beauty,
or has become only a thought.

Now this has become my state:
even living has become impossible.

At every moment there is "ah, ah" on the lips;
every breath has become a burden.

That pain which had stopped for a moment:
good news, it has been restored.

Our living and dying in love
has become its own example.

Some misfortunes came before as well,
but this time it has become a marvel.

6. What I gave up, trusting to grief, how can I tell you now?

What I gave up, trusting to grief, how can I tell you now?
Even grief did not suit the heart; let me find some other means.

The things to do and the things to say: who said them, and who did them?
If I saw someone doing and saying, I too would make some pledge.

Good or bad, however it passed, it passed with their support;
when his honour the heart reaches out a hand, every difficulty is made easy.

A resting place ahead, ahead, and a traveller behind;
when the breath breaks on the way, let the arrival be announced.

Mir met Meeraji; from his talk I came to know
that the spring of grace still flows; learn his *diwan* (collected poems) by heart too.

7. When I saw its ways I knew that a passion too had entered the heart

When I saw its ways I knew that a passion too had entered the heart;
Meeraji is not wise, he is a lover, a man possessed.

What face is this that has come into the flower garden early in the morning?
Every branch has started swaying, every bud has rippled.

Now the eyes will long for a face they knew;
in a new city the goddess of life has put on a new form.

If one toy is broken, many others will be found;
child, which enemy suggested this impossible thing to you?

The tune of meditation is a deathless song; if you know it, you will speak:
the one who led me astray from the road is the one who brought me back to it.

I sit in the flower garden; let us see when the buds open.
It is not the bee's way; who showed it so much of the road?

When the heart is troubled, it is soothed all by itself;
know this as the custom of love, but it is the cleverness of fate.

All hopes and desires would give us the slip; we knew it;
knowingly we were deceived, knowingly we drew the matter out.

Its own colour seems pleasing; the buds burst and became flowers;
every flower swayed and said: buds, I give you joy!

You have seen the colours of the waterfall; why do you not remember the wedding canopy?
See whose wedding has been arranged: there is the drum, there is the *shahnai* (wedding pipe).

The barge of the mind rocks as kohl lies within the eyes;
inside the heart there is a great commotion, in the world sadness has spread.

Waves meet waves, the ocean comes surging on;
one who lives in midstream has lit a lamp on the shore.

Let someone tell the last word; why should we listen to the last word?
In this world, first of all, it was the last word that was told.

8. As it has gone on, so it will pass

As it has gone on, so it will pass;
life now will become shorter and shorter.

The tresses of the night of parting's image are still dishevelled;
let me too see how dawn will come in this way.

The fruit of waiting for an imagined destination is this:
one day a glance of kindness will fall on me.

The heart keeps thinking on the shore of hope
that the search will become a mirror of ebb and flow.

Lover of pain, it is insolence, but forgive it:
now the fear is that the prayer will take effect.

In the embrace of breath this is the song of every breath:
one day, it is hoped, they will come to know.

9. Mine is an eye full of tears

Mine is an eye full of tears,
and mine is a restless heart.

The desolation of the house is the envy of the desert;
this is my colour of spring.

From the weeping eye, from the torn hem,
all my state is plain to see.

In the cries of grief everyone is lost;
who here is my comforter?

That one alone has power over all;
what power have I over him?

Since it came out of his gathering,
my heart has been a stranger in a foreign land.

I will make him mine in the end,
if my fortune is kind.

What do I have, after all? But even so,
all I have is sacrificed to that.

I accept the existence of the rival:
with the flower comes my thorn.

Perhaps this is the custom of the tavern:
the intoxication is his, the hangover is mine.

Go on dreaming of winning;
this heart of mine is a bad gambler.

What is Meeraji wrong to think?
Making verses is my way of life.

10. The heart grew and flourished on sins

The heart grew and flourished on sins;
the heart reached the door of maturity.

If life was short, what of it?
Within it the heart went on enjoying itself greatly.

This tiny expanse, this foolish existence:
the heart went on telling secret after new secret.

There was no one to worship; but little by little
the heart went on becoming its own object of worship.

There is no difference between weeping and laughter:
as the heart went on weeping, the heart went on laughing.

Instead of the heart, a bitter tear will remain,
if the heart came and went in his gathering.

It stayed troubled itself, but what is the worry?
Whoever it met, the heart amused.

Many secrets are hidden, but they will come out
if the heart is seized on the Day of Judgment.

I too used to act very clever, but
in the course of talk the heart led me astray.

When Meeraji said something to the purpose,
right there the heart turned the talk around at once.