মেরা কুছ সামান

Some of my belongings are still with youA few monsoon daysA night wrapped in a letterPut out that night, please send me what's mineCries of falling autumn leavesStill whispering in my earsThat autumn branch must still tremble in the windMake it fall, please send me what's mineThat time when we shared an umbrella in the rainHalf-wet, half-dry (that dryness I didn't forget to bring )My rain-soaked heart must be lying by the bedPlease send me that, with all the things I've left behindA hundred and sixteen moonlight nightsThat single mole on your shoulderThe smell of moist hennaAll our white lies, giggling reproachesI'll remind you of all your false promisesReturn them all, return what's mineJust allow me this one thingThat when I bury all those belongingsI, too, will lie in that graveI, too, will become mine

[A poor attempt at translating Gulzar's "Mera Kuch Samaan"]