Farewell, O vibrant gardens of Malihabad, farewell,
Farewell, O land where dawn's laughter did dwell, farewell.
Farewell, O lion's den, where the night's secrets fell, farewell,
Farewell, O place where beauty's soul did compel, farewell.
From your home, a living corpse prepares to depart,
Embrace me, for the bells of parting now impart.
Farewell, O vibrant gardens of Malihabad, farewell.
How many blessings bloomed for me, bereft of compare,
The hush, the open fields, the cool air everywhere.
Woe, alas, these bygone hues, this vibrant atmosphere,
Even in death, my wounded heart will hold these dear.
When the intoxicated cuckoo sings in the vales of sight,
The lure of babool trees will resurface in the light.
Farewell, O vibrant gardens of Malihabad, farewell.
Who, from tomorrow, will paint the garden's face anew?
Who will smile upon the flowers, their tender hue?
Who will rouse the verdant life from slumber, true?
Who will embrace these saplings, in passionate view?
Who will awaken to lift the lotus to its prime,
To lull the moonlit nights upon its passing time?
Farewell, O vibrant gardens of Malihabad, farewell.
When mango orchards weep with a rain's rough call,
In my absence, my eyes will weep blood, and fall.
When the droplets of nectar steal the gardens' thrall,
And colorful breezes will the joy recall.
Hearing my name, the season will become lost and sway,
A maelstrom of sorrow will begin to play.
Farewell, O vibrant gardens of Malihabad, farewell.
Embrace me, farewell, O garden of my land,
O fields of peace, O beloved homeland, to understand.
Farewell, O tulip-fields, hear, O garden grand,
Peace be upon you, O colorful comrades of the land.
Do not let me lie, until the final call,
Bury your poet within the earth of all.
Farewell, O vibrant gardens of Malihabad, farewell,
Farewell, farewell, farewell.
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