O desire of being!

Spare me this time,

You are not aware, how do the days pass?

O desire to breath!

Pardon me now,

You are unknowledgeable, how costly are these breathings?

 You are a word, only a half dead word,

The color of the dust of your leaven is red vermillion,

You have been given birth by inflamed fire and you, yourself,

Are such infertile that no hope can be attached to you,

You are such a poison that if it is drunk by a human,

He considers himself as some god.

You are a tree that continues to apportion only sunshine.

You are a journey that prolongs through centuries.

You are such an incantation that even restores dead to life.

You are such a blessing that is even begged by every bountiful.

You are such a solicitation that is even worshiped by gods themselves.

You are such a happiness that is even asked by happiness itself.

Even you show me many brightening colors now,

Even if you bring life to me,

Waqar will not fall at your feet.

O desire of being!

I am no more what I was before……


Written in Urdu, “Arzu-e-Hayat” by Dr. Waqar Khan

Translated in English, “Desire of Being” by Syedah Maryam Iqbal