Does no one hear me, these walls excepted?
My ghazals are worthy, complaints excepted.
Why don’t you come and see my room
Where all’s kept well, my oaths excepted.
The roses are glad of my books’ embraces –
Their only home, your gardens excepted.
There’s nothing you can’t rely on here,
My sweet-sweet words, of course, excepted.
You’ll lose your all against me soon
With nothing to bet, emotions excepted.
To know me, Misra, come with me
Where no one is, ourselves excepted.
Translated from my Hindi poem, “सिवाय…”
sivāy…
koi to sun lo in divāron ke sivā
kuch ghazal hein mere shikwon ke sivā
kabhi āo dekho merā kamrā yahān
sab barābar rakhtā hūn vādon ke sivā
meri kitābon se mil kar khush hein gulāb
ki ghar hei inkā tere bāghon ke sivā
kuch nahin jispe bharosā na kar sako
meri in mīthi mīthi bāton ke sivā
sab hāroge mere sāmne kuch na hoga
dāv pe lagāne jāzbāton ke sivā
mujhe gar jān-na hai to sāth chalo ‘Misra’
jahān koi na ho hum donon ke sivā
Minakhi Misra 