|Of passion’s glow your heart is blank, Your glances are not chaste and frank:|
To wonder at then there is naught That bold and dauntless you are not.
|A longing strong for God’s display, Is also hid in self-same clay:|
O heedless man, let this be known, Brains alone you do not own.
|The eye whose light and luster rest On collyrium brought from West:|
Is full of art, conceit and show, It gets not wet at others’ woe.
|How can the priest and monk assess The height of craze that I possess?|
still sound the hems of robes they wear, Which have no rifts and know no tear.
|How long the stars shall hold their sway On fate of man, sprung from clay?|
Either bereft of life I drop, Or the Wheel of Fate must stop.
|Lightning I am and keep my eye On waste and hill that reach the sky:|
Heaps of straw and mounds of dust, Too low they are, avoid I must.
|That godly man gets world’s bequest, Who risks his life in ceaseless quest:|
That man no Faith can claim at all Who lives not up to Prophet’s call.
Translated by: Syed Akbar Ali Shah