How powerless are we against life and death,

Our wills have no role nor do our desires.

How good if our hearts remain detached,

From this world and all the worldly affairs,

But how can any task be accomplished,

If the heart is not in it servile and sincere?

The world has never bothered to adhere,

To loyalty or the departed dear,

Looks like I too must be one of the lot,

Who march on quietly to the funeral pyre.

I am leaving this garden of longing at last,

And preparing to enter the garden of bliss,

Having had enough of the merriment here,

And caring a hoot for Saba* and spring.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

*SABA; The spring breeze.
This is an English rendition of Shaikh Ibrahim Zouq's famous ghazal. Translated on July 14-15, 2002.

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