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36. |
Devoid of passion’s roar I can exist no more:
What else can be this life but passion strong and strife? |
My essence endlessly impels my minstrelsy:
Some may in throng be still, who feels for others’ ill. |
Love’s flame can still set fire to lodge and goods entire:
If thirst be not aflame, wherefore the saki blame? |
Your judgment of the West on glamour must not rest:
Its essence seems so bright by means of electric light. |
The thoughts of world conquest can never shape in breast,
If blessed not be your gaze with world-wide wont and ways. |
I, even in winter drear, fell not in hunter’s snare:
My nest’s branches bare drew the hunter’s stare. |
Their plans shall end in smoke, miscarry the destined stroke:
This fact with truth is fraught, no fiction of my thought. |
Translated by: Syed Akbar Ali Shah |
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