She has written: The henna is afresh on my hands,
But the water has dried in your eyes.
She has written: Whoever told it, told a lie --
The roses are scorched on the roads.
She has written: What’s befallen shouldn’t be written;
But all this happened in your grief.
She has written: I asked for your love -- a clear mirror.
I didn’t ask for the gems of Yemen.
She has written: Should I tell them we died in dreaming?
Perchance they decide to ask a question.
She has written: Why are you sad at the sight of the mansions?
Refrain from thinking on the matters of Fate.
She has written: Our case files will be reopened at last;
Finally our issues will also be raised.
She has written: Now only the scars will remain.
Surely our wounds will be cured.
Translated by Muneebur Rahman
