I am constantly reminded of the bygone times
Those garden's springs, those chorus of chimes
Gone are the freedoms of our own nests
Where we could come and go at our own pleasure
My heart aches the moment I think
Of the buds' smile at the dew's tears
That beautiful figure, that Kamini's form
Which source of happiness in my nest did form
I do not hear those lovely sounds in my cage now
May it happen that my freedom be in my own hands now!
How unfortunate I am, tantalized for my abode I am
My companions are in the home‐land, in the prison I am
Spring has arrived, the flower buds are laughing
On my misfortune in this dark house I am wailing
God, To whom should I relate my tale of woe?
I fear lest I die in this cage with this woe (grief) !
Since separation from the garden the condition of my heart is such
My heart is waxing the grief, my grief is waxing the heart
O Listeners, considering this music do not be happy
This call is the wailing of my wounded heart
O the one who confined me make me free
A silent prisoner I am, earn my blessings free
- Allama Muhammad Iqbal
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