THE SONG OF GHALIB

Come, let us change the rule of heaven,
let us change fate by revolving a heavy measure of wine;
though the police-captain makes trouble, we will not worry,
and if the king himself sends a present, we will reject it.
Though Moses converse with us, we will not say a word;
though Abraham be our host, we will decline him.
Battling, the tribute-snatchers of the grove
we will turn away from our garden’s gate with empty basket;
peacefully, the birds that flutter their wings at dawn
we will send back from the grove to their nests.
You and I are of Haidar, so no wonder would it be
if we turn back the sun towards the East.
 
THE SONG OF ZINDA-RUD
You say that these roses and tulips are permanent here;
no, they are travellers all, like the waves of the breeze.
Where is the new truth which we seek, and do not find?
Mosque, school and tavern, all alike are barren.
Learn a word from your own self, and in that word burn,
for in this convent all lack Moses’ fire.
speak not of the striving for purity of these monastery—dwellers,
they are all dishevelled of hair, blankets unwashed.
What temples they have fashioned within the Sanctuary,
these unitarians of one thought, but all split in two!
The problem is not that the hour of feasting has passed,
the problem is that they are all without sweetmeats and boon-companion!​
 
Top