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I and You |
In me no mind of Moses, in you no virtue of Abraham: idolatrous foes like theirs,
New Samris, Azars, have with eldritch arts destroyed us; I am a song burned out in the throat, |
And you a shrivelled colour, a frightened scent; I, memory of the pain of longing—you,
Echo of a lament for love. My joys are gall, my honey venom, my soul twin-brother |
To blank oblivion: your heart’s temple pawned to Persia’s strange gods, your religion bartered
To infidels. Life’s every breath is numbered—to count them, terror: to wail at life’s brief span, |
Poison; do not bewail that terror, do not swallow the poison of that wailing; take
The road by which the saints came to their crown, |
And have no thought, if one spark burns in your dust, pf wealth or penury; for here on earth
Black peasant bread breeds Hyder’s strength. Oh lamp |
Of the shrine! teach me, your circling moth, a way of worship to renew in me that nature
Which like the salamander feeds on flame. |
Against the guardians of the shrine, the shrine brings accusation of such villainy
Decked out as loyal zeal, that let me once broclaim it in the very idol-house, |
The senseless monsters would cry out ‘Oh Vishnu, Vishnu!’ Not new to-day the world’s arena,
Not new the antagonists, face to face, hands clenched; Unchanged of purpose stands the Lion of God, |
Unchanged the opposing champions. Aid us, Prophet, lord of Arabia and the alien lands!
Awaiting here thy bounty are those beggars whom thou has given the pride of Alexander. |
Translated by: V.G. Kiernan |
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