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16. |
A recreant captain, a battle-line thrown back,
The arrow hanging target-less and slack! |
Nowhere near you that shell which holds life’s pearl;
I have dragged the waves and searched the ocean’s track. |
Plunge in your self, on idols dote no more,
Pour our no more heart’s blood for paint to deck |
Their shrines. I unveil the courts of Love and Death:
Death—life dishonoured; Love—death for honour’s sake. |
I gleaned in Rumi’s company: one bold heart
Is worth of learned heads the whole tame pack; |
Once more that voice from Sinai’s tree would cry
Fear not! if some new Moses led the attack. |
No glitter of Western science could dazzle my eyes
The dust of Medina stains, like collyrium, black. |
Translated by: V.G. Kiernan |
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