|Itching palms, in the old temple of Earth, have the kneelers,|
Men who remember their God only when idols are deaf.
Vain are the Hindu’s rites and vain the Mohammedan’s worship;
Wailing and gnashing of teeth still are the lot of the poor.
None of earth’s cities in truth is more than a populous desert,
High though their buildings soar, kissing the sky with their roofs.
Axe in hand Farhad toils on;—Fate’s irony witness!
Slek and content is Parvez, parching with drought in Farhad.
All that there is in that world its rulers’ brains have engendered:
Science and learning are theirs, commerce and practice of State;
Free of enslavement, Allah be thanked, to the huckster of Europe—
Free is this country of ours, scorched in the furnace of Hell.