When the wounds of your memory begin to heal
I find some excuse to think of you.
No sooner do Love's proclamations blossom,
then tresses are arranged in every house.
Every stranger I pass seems like an ally
even now, going past your street.
Exiles speak to the wind of their lost country
and the eyes of the morning brim with tears.
Each time she stitches a voice to her lips
the air is scattered with another song.
Darkness seals the door of the prison
then the stars, Faiz, descend in the heart.
– Faiz Ahmed Faiz
A brave attempt at translation by a very talented person. It is amazing, then, how much is still lost.
I must learn other languages.