With every breath I call your name,

With every smile I weave—

The surmai in your eyes

frames the desert morning colors,

With a smile they sparkle,

having let go.

Reflecting the sun—

shades of red, orange, and yellow—

powder caught in your hair—

all that I smeared, like a child.

Where your presence lingers, barefoot, 

meandering the cool sand.

The florets of tall cactus

take on the colors from your face.

Let me be trapped in those long blinks,

Let this zikr take me for a while

till I find my bearing.

Woken by the coohoo of the koel,

with the chime of your bangles.

Let this wajd itself take me,

stirring the morning breeze.

With every smile I weave this gajra

while the koel calls in my desert.