Paris

din Dhala kucha o bazar mein saf-basta huin
zard-ru raushaniyan

un mein har ek ke kashkol se barsen rim-jhim
is bhare shahr ki nasudgiyan

dur pas-manzar-e-aflak mein dhundlane lage
azmat-e-rafta ke nishan

pesh-e-manzar mein
kisi saya-e-diwar se lipTa hua saya koi

dusre sae ki mauhum si ummid liye
roz-marra ki tarah

zer-e-lab
sharh-e-bedardi-e-ayyam ki tamhid liye

aur koi ajnabi
in raushniyon sayon se katraata hua

apne be-KHwab shabistan ki taraf jata hua
Paris

The day faded away, and down the streets
and alleyways

were arrayed pallid lampposts
from whose bowls rained down

this crowded city's frustrations.
Over there

the vestiges of past glory
began to look hazy against the skyline

and there, in front of the eye,
some shadow embraced a wall's shadow

cherishing the faint hope for another shadow—
an everyday occurrence—

prefaces a mute comment
on the harshness of time;

and some stranger
skirting these lights, these shadow,

presses on towards his dreamless bed-chamber.