|Contrary runs our planet, the stars whirl fast, oh Saki!|
In every atom’s heartbeat a Doomsday blast, oh Saki!
|Torn from God’s congregation its dower of faith and reason,|
And godlessness in fatal allurement dressed, oh Saki!
|For our inveterate sickness, our wavering heart, the cure—|
That same joy-dropping nectar as in the past, oh Saki.
|Within Islam’s cold temple no fire of longing stirs,|
For still your face is hidden, veiled and un-guessed, oh Saki.
|Unchanged is Persia’s garden: soil, stream, Tabriz, unchanged;|
And yet with no new Rumi is her land graced, oh Saki.
|But of his barren acres Iqbal will not despair:|
A little rain, and harvests shall wave at last, oh Saki!
|On me, a beggar, secrets of empire are bestowed;|
My songs are worth the treasures Parvez amassed, oh Saki.
Translated by: V.G. Kiernan