Translation in Rhyme
I know the prayer, yet the words escape,
My song’s melody fades, lost in its shape.
At my beloved’s door, a beggar’s plea I bring,
But no lamentations come, no verse to sing.
My blood sheds in alleys, a vow once made,
Now she claims no memory, a promise betrayed.
Her eyes quick to weep at the sunset’s gleam,
The lamp’s light trembles, was it just a dream?
I see stars in a haze, their tales untold,
Who’s aggrieved with me and when, I can’t behold.
A lifetime under oppression’s grim decree,
Yet the crime I bear, remains a mystery.
Let’s prostrate, mindlessly, in humble regard,
They say Saghar forgets God—oh, how marred.
Translation in Prose
I know the prayer, just don’t remember the words,
My songs don’t remember the melody.1
My eyes have knocked on the doorstep of my beloved,
I am that beggar who doesn’t remember any lamentations.2
For whom I spilled my blood in the alleyways,
That same one tells me she doesn’t remember our promise.
How quickly her eyes filled with tears at sunset,
How quickly were shaken the light of the lamps, I don’t remember.
I have only witnessed a hazy glow of the stars,
Who and when did someone get upset with me, I don’t remember.
I have spent a lifetime in continuous oppression,
For what crime do I bear the punishment, I don’t remember.
Let us prostrate in a state of mindlessness,
People claim that Saghar doesn’t remember God.3
hai duā yād magar harf-e-duā yād nahīṇ
mere naghmāt ko andāz-e-navā yād nahīṇ
maiṇ ne palkoṇ se dar-e-yār pe dastak dī hai
maiṇ vo sā-il hūṇ jise koī sadā yād nahīṇ
maiṇ ne jin ke liye rāhoṇ meṇ bichhāyā thā lahū
ham se kehte haiṇ vahī ehd-e-vafā yād nahīṇ
kaise bhar āīṇ sar-e-shām kisī kī āṇkheṇ
kaise tharrāī charāghoṇ kī ziyā yād nahīṇ
sirf dhuñdlāe sitāron kī chamak dekhī hai
kab huā kaun huā kis se khafā yād nahīṇ
zindagī jabr-e-musalsal kī tarah kātī hai
jāne kis jurm kī pāī hai sazā yād nahīṇ
aao ik sajdā kareṇ ālam-e-madh hoshī meṇ
log kehte haiṇ ki saghar ko khudā yād nahīṇ