In the twilight of an ancient land, a voice echoes,
Amir Khusro, the bard of mystic prose,
With every word, a universe unfolds,
A timeless dance, where love and lore compose.

Beneath the moon’s soft and gentle glow,
His verses flow like rivers, swift and slow,
Binding hearts in a celestial embrace,
A melody of peace and divine grace.

The nightingale sings in his soulful rhyme,
Each note a bridge to a sacred time,
Where the soul finds solace and delight,
In the whispers of a Sufi’s flight.

Oh, Khusro, your legacy remains,
In every heart, your wisdom reigns,
A beacon of hope, in the darkest night,
Guiding us with your eternal light.