Every sect has a faith, a direction (Qibla) to which they turn,
I have turned my face towards the crooked cap (of Nizamudin Aulia)
The whole world worships something or the other,
Some look for God in Mecca, while some go to Kashi (Banaras) ,
So why can't I, Oh wise people, fall into my beloved's feet?
Every sect has a faith, a Qibla.

Every night I hurry home to see
If a letter's there from you to me.
Every night I bow my head and say,
'There's no word at all from him today.'

Evening wind:
water laps
the heron's legs.


Translated by Robert Hass

Our English host was gracious
We were soon at ease;
Or almost:
The servants
were watching.

[From: Poems; Publisher: Nissim Ezekiel, Mumbai, 1966]

Children astray to their mothers, and goats to the herd,
Sheep to the shepherd, through twilight the wings of the bird,
All things that morning has scattered with fingers of gold,
All things thou bringest, O Evening! at last to the fold.

Even with insects--
some can sing,
some can't.


Translated by Robert Hass

Even when we sleep we watch over each other
And this love heavier than a lake’s ripe fruit
Without laughter or tears lasts forever
One day after another one night after us.

Even that old horse
is something to see this
snow-covered morning

Even on the smallest islands,
they are tilling the fields,
skylarks singing.


Translated by Robert Hass

He who binds to himself a joy
Does the winged life destroy;
But he who kisses the joy as it flies
Lives in eternity's sun rise.