Behind the façade of heaven, man has played enough;

The beast has played enough with the blood of humans;

Solomon has played with the lifeless ant;

It is time now to overturn the two worlds

And fill the heart of the universe with the sparks of destruction.

.

The darkness of infidelity is not called faith;

The blood-thirsty dog is not called a person;

The enemy of life is not called a guardian;

See! The storm of blood is now about to rise.

See! The smiles on the face of the Angel of Death.

.

Know now what the flood of wrath is,

The whirlpool of sudden death,

The pressure of the sights of the grave,

How the unhappy age will be made happy;

The sound of humanity will be free.

.

The lament, ineffective, for creatures of God?

The price of gibbet and rope, for the messengers of truth?

The palace doors of prideful Shiddad are closed to the hungry.

Set fire to the place if this is the scene of creation.

Take away life from the world, if such is the world.

.

Come, O earthquakes! Come, O burning lava;

Come, O lightning! Come, O thunder clouds;

Come, O wind storms. Come, O hell winds.

Come, let us burn to ashes this unholy sphere

And fill the cup of the world with kindness.

.

From: Bisāt̤-i raqṣ (Dance Carpet). Ḥaidarābād, Inḍiyā: Istiqbāliyah kameṭī jashn-i Mak̲h̲dūm, 1966. pp. 39 – 41