مٹی دے باوے

Little Clay Dolls

ایتھے مٹی دے نے سارے

سوہنی سوہنی مورتاں وی

کالیاں پھکی صورتاں وی

اچے لمے شملے وی

ٹلھے ماٹھے کملے وی

مٹی دے سارے باوے نیں

کروڑ تے ہزار

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Melancholia

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From behind the curtain of thick grey fog

peeks melancholia, a familiar face and friend

Hope is but a distant mirage, even a wild bog

It kills you, leaving no sad evidence in the end

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The Autumn Within

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Outside, there is autumn – the colours of gold and rust

It comes for a month or two and then hits rock bottom

Inside, the autumn stays forever, heaps of ash and dust

It came when I was born, will leave when I’m all rotten

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