Bichedte hue yaad de jayenge
Khud sone se pehle unhi ko 1 khwab de jayenge
Unhe gila hai ke hm jawab nahin dete
Saanso ke rukne se pehle har jawab dy jayenge
All love at first, like generous wine,
Ferments and frets until ‘tis fine;
But when ‘tis settled on the lee,
And from th’ impurer matter free,
Become the richer still the older,
And proves the pleasanter the colder.
