A Poem by Mir Dard

It was a school or temple, or was it Makkah or a church.
We were all guests, only you were the host.

Oh! How sad it is. I found just before death.
It was only a dream, what I saw. It was only a fairy tale, what I heard.

How sad it is that autumn is in the garden.
There was some grass, which was my friend.

This place is getting chaotic with all these people coming and going.
My heart used to be the place for your peace.

It is useless to remember them, try to be happy.
Dard, it is not important if they remember me or not.<br />

Mir Dard was a sufi poet from India. I translated this poem for college project.

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