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The bulbul rejoices that
winter's gone,
-
Gay spring has come again.
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The spring breeze is all a flutter, sensing
-
Keen expectancy in the air.
-
-
Flowers have set up beauty stalls
-
In the gardens of love.
-
See what's written on flower petals,
-
To know what beauty means !
-
-
The early breeze hinted to the crow:
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'Don't waste your time on words !
-
The meaning does not matter here;
-
You better learn the art !'
-
-
Why should men of stature shun
-
The company of lesser men ?
-
How does a flower feel at home,
-
Being in the midst of thorns ?
-
-
I tried to conceal my inner self,
-
But it did burst-forth
-
Like fragrance always issues out,
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Tearing the chest of the flower.
-
-
Gazing hard at all the flowers,
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Mistaking each for my beloved,
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I found them all silent. The bulbul said,
-
'Why must you raise a strife ?"
-
-
Flowers wither in autumn,
-
But come again in spring.
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Life always returns after death;
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So leave the fear of death.
-
-
When summer ends, all flowers take flight
-
At the sight of the autumn wind;
-
But you must always remember
-
That autumn trio does not last.
-
-
Mahjoor, there is no Kashmiri
-
Who has recognised you so far.
-
Those who will know you, except a few,
-
Have not yet been born.