About a thousand bets I’ve lost.
Often against myself I’ve lost.
I’d wagered just a brick at first,
And now a wall entire I’ve lost.
A month or more had passed before
I realised her love I’ve lost.
What’s there to say about my pride?
I’ve saved my face; income, I’ve lost.
Pursuing fame, I never looked
Behind to see the springs I’ve lost.
So busy I’ve been within my Self,
O Misra, my Supreme I’ve lost.
Translated from my Hindi poem, हार चुका हूँ
hār chukā hūn
shartein karīb hazār hār chukā hūn
main Khud se itnī bār hār chukā hūn
shurū mein īnT rakkhī thī dāv pe
ab to pūrī dīvār hār chukā hūn
mahinā guzar gayā thā jab tak
jānā ki uskā pyār hār chukā hūn
apne gurūr kī kyā hī bāt karūn
nāk bachāke rozgār hār chukā hūn
nām ke chakkar mein mud ke na dekhā
pīcHe kitne bahār hār chukā hūn
khud mein itnā masrūf rahā ‘Misra’
apnā parvardigār hār chukā hūn
Minakhi Misra 