UNSUCCESSFUL LIFE. It was last and It was priceless

There are no Cressets, there is no light;

There is existence, but there is no quale;

There are no flames, there is no fire.

A weird city of blinds;

There are eyes, but there is no sight.

In the streets of Mulla’s;

There are taverns but no Rummers.

This was the house of Mansoor;

Here inebriation was in dust;

Here conscious was one passionate insanity;

Here death was existence;

Here beauty was unity-the adoration of admirer;

Here prayer was sitar’s melody;

Salutation was friendship.

Now this city is about to wreck;

Crowd is inclined but there is no Imam;

There are no flowers but only names;

Bewail! There is existence but there is no quale of life.

Palace is ready, Laila is waiting;

But there is no Majnoon, there is no Majnoon;

In this Weird World of Colors;

White is absent, and there is no Black.

On this weird Path of mine;

There is no laager nor destination;

There is no craziness nor Senselessness;

There is no beauty, there is no light;

Bizarre Saaqi(cup-bearer) and rummer;

There is no laughter, nor Passion;

In this World of mine, there is no ray of light.

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