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35. |
Once more I feel the urge to wail and weep at dead of night:
O traveller, stop a bit, perchance I face some awful site. |
Awhile in dark abyss of Fate dive and see beneath:
Out of this battlefield I come like sword out of the sheath. |
This verse some man with witty mind on niche of mosque did write:
“These fools fell prostrate on the earth, when it was time to fight.” |
O man, who at my misery scoff, follow the road you tread:
When the cup to me was passed, the gathering all had fled. |
Iqbal his glow to Muslims lent, who in India dwell:
An easy-going man he was and served the sluggards well. |
o find Iqbal for years on end I did chafe and fret:
By effort great that kingly hawk has come within my net. |
Translated by: Syed Akbar Ali Shah |
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