|Devoid of passion’s roar I can exist no more:|
What else can be this life but passion strong and strife?
|My essence endlessly impels my minstrelsy:|
Some may in throng be still, who feels for others’ ill.
|Love’s flame can still set fire to lodge and goods entire:|
If thirst be not aflame, wherefore the saki blame?
|Your judgment of the West on glamour must not rest:|
Its essence seems so bright by means of electric light.
|The thoughts of world conquest can never shape in breast,|
If blessed not be your gaze with world-wide wont and ways.
|I, even in winter drear, fell not in hunter’s snare:|
My nest’s branches bare drew the hunter’s stare.
|Their plans shall end in smoke, miscarry the destined stroke:|
This fact with truth is fraught, no fiction of my thought.
Translated by: Syed Akbar Ali Shah