I'll Hide in Song after Song

To-day my pensive mood
I'll hide in song after song
I'll expose my soul turning
the thorny wound into a flower,


To forget your neglect
I will sing all the while
The greater the shocks
the more tuneful my violin.


If absent-mindedly the flower is torn
I'll make a garland of it
And give it to you as a
gift when you arrive


By the fountain of my tunes
I'll compose divine music
You'll bathe in the stream
of those tunes and arise


I'll strike a rhyme out of word after word,
oh poet are you content now.
Your mind is desolate, your empty,
your soul without joy.


[Original: Aji gane gane dhakbo; Translation: Abu Rushd]