It is long since in this old world poor man
Is being ground like grain between millstones.
He has been duped by Kaisers and by Czars,
And has been caught in the snare of the Church.
Have you not seen the hungry slave at last
Tear to shreds his lord’s garment, dyed red with
His blood? Democracy’s spark has burnt up
The robes of the Church elders and the kings.

The Kaiser:
Why blame idols for their winsome ways?
It is in the Brahmin’s nature to adore.
He keeps fashioning new idols; for
He gets bored stiff with the ones he has.
Do not tell me of the highwaymen:
His own robber is the traveller here.
If you crown the common people, then
You will find oppression is still there.
Never does greed die out of men’s hearts:
In a furnace fire must always blaze.
Power’s sorceress has the same arts
Irrespective of the part she plays.
"Shirin’s beauty never goes abegging:
Khusroes or Farhads are never lacking."