gah muttaqiyam kunad gahe pir-e-mughan
gah muttaqīyam kunad gahe pīr-e-muġhāñ
ahvāl-e-jahāñ gaah na-dīdam yaksāñ
chuuñ naḳhl gahe sabz-o-gahe ’uryānam
be-mausam-e-gul bahār hañgām-e-ḳhizāñ
It makes me ascetic sometimes and sometimes old magi;
I never saw the state of world constant.
It’s green like a tree sometimes, and sometimes naked, bereft of leaves.
It blooms out of season and brings spring even in autumn!
gah muttaqiyam kunad gahe pir-e-mughan
ahwal-e-jahan gah na-didam yaksan
chun naKHl gahe sabz-o-gahe ’uryanam
be-mausam-e-gul bahaar hangam-e-KHizan
It makes me ascetic sometimes and sometimes old magi;
I never saw the state of world constant.
It’s green like a tree sometimes, and sometimes naked, bereft of leaves.
It blooms out of season and brings spring even in autumn!
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