|
7. |
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 |
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