(Written in Europe)
|At London, winter wind, like sword, was biting though,|
My wont to rise at early morn I didn’t forego.
|At times my heated talk to gathering pleasure lent;|
My holding ’loof at times perplexed them all, I trow.
|No hope for change is there, if workers rule the land,|
For those who hew the rocks, like Parvez tricks do know.
|Statecraft divorced from Faith to reign of terror leads,|
Though it be a monarch’s rule or Commoners’ Show.
|The streets of Rome remind of Delhi’s glorious past,|
The lesson same and charm are writ upon its brow.
Translated by: Syed Akbar Ali Shah