 | ||
| Mirza Saab admiring Chinar leaves in Srinagar |
These that wither and rustle,
These that sparkle and crumble,
These that are spread so bountiful,
These that are infinitely beautiful -
Mamma, are these leaves of Chinar,
What they call precious jewels?
And the land that nurtures them,
Is this what they call heaven?
For their fleeting company
Brings to me unbounded joy!
What else can be precious?
Where else can be heaven?
