Your cheeks are flushed with the blood of Hamza;
You come of age, Pushto Ghazal, But I Become an old Baba.
A bubble,, like an eye in your search,
I am drifting in the sea of your love.
O love you are self centered while I am a pakhtoon,
I have never taugth begging to my eyes.
Do not touch the blister on my Pakhtoon heart,
Lest the beautiful tent of Laila is broken.
The sun of your face has blinded me
Spred your dark tresses so light comes again to my eyes.
Please God increase ten times the beauty of Laila of Pashtoo
And than also increase my love ten times more than Majnoons
I wonder at your simplicity, dear,
My poetry is but considered a puzzle
Watch carefully, life was a point in the begnning,
Up and down, entire universe was its circle
Neither have I wandered out side my self,
Nor have I gone any where, nor come back
My dreams are thristy of water of interpretation,
Only those having really no wings find the river difficult to cross
The pan of the sun went up to the sky,
When I wished to weigh your beauty with the sun
I have not yet shown on the horiozon of Pakhtoonkhwa,
I am that universal sun which has not yet arisen
You are the book of existence,I am its text;
All these other things are but the margin of this book
You have not understood the truth of Wajud,
when still searching for space in the universe
The adversary call it a language of hell
but to heaven I shall go with Pashto
Until I bring them all to one centre,
I shall go with jargas to every tribe
I thought this sleeping nation would wake up with my calls,
It seems I have been calling a sleepy people in dream
An indivisual, like a drop,
Can neither wet nor irrigate;
Only with plentiful rain
Does the parched earth vegitate