Delhi

Neither the light of anyone’s eyes,
nor the solace of anyone’s heart
of no use to anyone,
I am that one fistful of dust
Neither anyone’s friend,
nor anyone’s rival
the one that is ruined,
I am that fate,
that land,
the one that is wrecked,
My complexion and beauty is ravaged,
my beloved is separated from me
the garden that got ruined in autumn,
I am the crop of its spring
Why should anyone come to recite a requiem,
why should anyone come to offer flowers
why should anyone come to light a candle,
I am that tomb of destitution
I am not a soul-inspiring song,
what will one gain hearing me
I am the voice of a diseased person,
I am the cry of the disheartened.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *