Spring has dawned, the mountains resplendent in delight, and flowers all abloom
The sky is a clear mirror, the merry spring breeze sprinkles fragrance in the world
In the willow grove, the cuckoo serenades, and the pigeons coo.
The sun bares its comely face, while the daffodils fill their goblets to the brim.
A flight of swallows has flown in a merry din
that the surrounding stand to attention.
Spring has set in like last year
raking half-forgotten deep desires.
The gates of Nishat will be thrown open again today
while the waterfalls of Shalimar will glide again.
The embroider begins work on a new motif
And the coachman has harnessed his carriage.
If only the Friday yesterday were today.
Alas! What intricate motifs have to be traced
to be embroidered on cloth today! How detailed,
each spilling over into long hours!
Alack! the thread is all a tight knit jumble today.
The dazed needle lies lost, all addresses forgotten,
draping pierced fingers in blood.