tum mire paas raho
mire qātil, mire dildār mire paas raho
jis ghaḌī raat chale,
āsmānoñ kā lahū pī ke siyah raat chale
marham-e-mushk liye, nashtar-e-almās liye
bain kartī huī hañstī huī gaatī nikle
dard ke kāsnī pāzeb bajātī nikle
jis ghaḌī sīnoñ meñ Duube hue dil
āstīnoñ meñ nihāñ hāthoñ kī rah takne lage
aas liye
aur bachchoñ ke bilakne kī tarah qulaul-e-mai
bahr-e-nā-sūdgī machle to manā.e na mane
jab koī baat banā.e na bane
jab na koī baat chale
jab ghaḌī raat chale
jis ghaḌī mātamī sunsān siyah raat chale
paas raho
mire qātil, mire dildār mire paas raho
Victor Kiernen
Be near me—
My torment, my darling, be near me
That hour when the night comes,
Black night that has drunk heaven’s blood comes
With salve of musk-perfume, with diamond-tipped lancet,
With wailing, with jesting, with music,
With grief like a clash of blue anklets—
When, hoping once more, hearts deep-sunk in men's bosoms
Wait, watch for the hands whose wide sleeves still
Enfold them,
Till wine's gurgling sound is a sobbing of infants
Unsatisfied, fretful, no soothing will silence, —
No taking thought prospers,
No thought serves;
— That hour when the night comes,
That hour when black night, drear, forlorn, comes
Be near me.
My torment, my darling, be near me!
You be near me,
My destroyer , my sweetheart, be near me —
At the hour when night comes,
When dark night having drunk the blood of the heavens comes
Bearing the salve of musk, bearing the lancet of diamond , Comes out making lamentation, laughing, singing,
Comes out sounding blue-grey anklets of pain;
At the hour when hearts sunk in breasts
Have begun to watch out for hands hidden in sleeves,
With hope,
And gurgling of wine, like a sobbing of children,
Because of frustration is fractious,
and though you may soothe it will not be soothed:
When whatever thing you try to bring about will not be
brought about.
When nothing succeeds:
At the hour when night comes,
At the hour when mournful, dreary, black night comes
Be near.
My destroyer, my sweetheart, be near me.
Juvenilia 