ye shah’r apnaa, ajab shah’r hai
ke raatoN ko
saRak pe chaliye tau sargoshiyaaN sii kartaa hai
bulaa ke zakhm dikhaataa hai
raaz-e-dil kii tarah
dariiche band
galii chup
niDhaal diivaareN
kivaaR muh’r-balab
gharoN meN mayyateN thahrii hu’ii haiN barsoN se
kiraaye par —— !
This city of ours is really strange:
it whispers at night
when we walk on the streets,
it beckons, and shows its wounds
as if they were the secrets of the heart.
Its windows are all shut;
its lanes silent;
its walls dead tired;
its doors sealed.
In houses only the corpses have
stayed on for years on rent.
