On closer look, a gift of yours it seems.
Relief of Revelation’s yours, it seems.
It’s only I who knows of why I broke.
To other men, a work of yours it seems.
No others ever send complaints of me.
The only ones I get are yours, it seems.
Now, even seasoned drunkards leave this place,
When they detect a drink of yours, it seems.
It’s just how things have always been with us.
I do the crime but blame is yours, it seems.
Here, keep this house. Someday, you’ll need it too,
Though now, to you, the world is yours, it seems.
I’ll somehow find myself a partner, O Misra.
The life of loneliness is yours, it seems.
Translated from my Hindi poem, “तुम्हारा लगता है”
tumhārā lagtā hai
gaur karūn to inām tumhārā lagtā hai
ye rāhat-e-ilhām tumhārā lagtā hai
bas main jāntā hūn mere bikharne ka rāz
zamāne ko to kām tumhārā lagtā hai
hai nahīn kisī aur ko shikāyat mujhse
lagtā hai toh ilzām tumhārā lagtā hai
bhāg jāte hain sharābzāde bhī yahān se
galti se bhī gar jām tumhārā lagtā hai
kab se hi aise hotā ā rahā hai nā
jurm main kartā hūn nām tumhārā lagtā hai
rakh lo is ghar ko kabhī zarūrat hogī
tumhein jahān tamām tumhārā lagtā hai
DHūnDH hi lūngā koī aur humsafar Misra
tanhāyi par anjām tumhārā lagtā hai
Minakhi Misra 