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A Cup

The air of drunkenness is floating in the dusk;
Come and drown all your sorrows in a cup.
What matters if you are a chishti malang or an amir –
At home, there is no difference between master and slave.
Death’s hand, the black hunter, is weighing well the blow;
Laugh! Laugh now, before laughter is ensnared.

Translated from Pashto by Taimur Khan

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