Shiv Kumar Batalvi Poems

My friend, it is my own sorrow
That has destroyed me.
It is a lie to think
That your love had the strength to do it.
...

I catch butterflies,
I catch butterflies.
...

Why ask about the condition of fakirs like us?
We are water, separated from its river,
Emerged from a tear,
Melancholy, distressed.
...

Listen, mother,
My songs are eyes
Stinging with grains of separation.
In the middle of the night,
...

I wish that I could be a bird
That I could fly, that I could sing,
That I could touch untouchable peaks,
...

Say a word, say something
O my dark beloved!
Stir spring into my life!
O my dark beloved!
...

Either this sorrowful night is long
Or my songs are interminable.
This dreadful night does not end,
Nor do my songs cease.
...

I will give you the grain of tears,
Roast my sorrows in your pan,
O, tender of the fire.
...

It has been a while
Since my self became displeased with me
And left.
What remains with me
...

The sun that you stole
Was mine.
The house that you threw into darkness,
Was mine.
...