Stay with me,
my assassin, my beloved, stay with me.
When the night is spread
with its unction of musk, with its diamond scalpel
drunk on the blood of the firmament, this inky night,
lamenting, laughing, ululating,
dances its grief away on jingling anklets.
The moment when hearts, like secrets steeped deep within the breast,
like knives secreted within deep sleeves lie in wait
for the right moment. The moment
when wine tinkles into cups like a child's whimper,
when discontent swells and cannot be assuaged,
when nothing seems to work at all,
when that night comes to pass,
when that funereal, hushed, black night comes to pass
stay with me,
my assassin, my beloved stay with me.
(Paas Raho by Faiz Ahmed Faiz)
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