صنف کے تحت کتاب
یہ صفحہ صرف صنفِ غزل کے تحت آنے والی نظمیں دکھاتا ہے۔
A little apple, half red and half yellow, made tale of rose and saffron.
My verse resembles the bread of Egypt—night passes over it, and you cannot eat it any more.
Take heed, for the time of men of fortitude has come, the hour of hardship and testing has come.
Someone said, “Master San¯a’¯ı is dead.” The death of such a master is no small thing.
Ah, what was there in that light-giving candle that it set fire to the heart, and snatched the heart away?