raat ko sone se pahle
mujh se nanha kah raha tha chand lakhon mil kyunkar dur hai

kyun chamakte hain sitare do ghubare kali billi kya hui
mere hathi ko pilao garm pani wo kahani mujh ko nind aane lagi

the paper boat
nisf shab ko aate-jate baadalon ke darmiyan

kuchh huruf-e-na-tawan
bundiyon ke rup mein kaghaz ke ek purze pe mere samne

der tak girte rahe
nazm ke naqsh-e-gurezan ne sitam lakhon sahe

an-ginat barson pe phaili chashm-o-dil ki dastan
raat ke pichhle-pahar ki god mein

tez-tar hoti hui barish ke lori sun ke shayad so gai
sleepy in bed, my little son asked

difficult questions
about the moon and distant stars

his two balloons and the black cat
prescribed a glass of warm water for his ailing elephant.

i wove a tale for his rambling mind
in the middle of it he fell fast asleep.

at midnight
some feeble words

like raindrops from floating clouds
descended on a scrap of paper

in front of me
and formed the elusive impression of a poem

i thought i might create
towards morning, the light drizzle

turned into a heavy downpour
the patter of rain

like a weird lullaby
soothed me to sleep

subh-dam
khil uthe chaaron taraf bachchon ke rangin qahqahon aur taliyon ke shokh phul

raat-bhar ki tez barish ki banai jhil mein
dagmagati dolti

chal rahi thin chhoti chhoti kashtiyan
main ne dekha in mein nanhe ki bhi thi pyari si naw

nazm ka naqsh-e-gurezan jaana-pahchana sa kaghaz jaane-pahchane huruf
nanha bola aaj jo tali na pite bewaquf

in the morning
bright flowers

of gay laughter and shouts of boisterous children
blossomed everywhere

the overnight rain had formed a lake:
small paper boats floated across its rippling waves

the scrap of paper, the familiar words, the elusive lines,
i knew them in a glance-