A sonorous beggar came in our country;

He came and went away singing his melody;

The deserted streets were then filled with people;

The fortune of desolated heavens brightened.

Only a few glances could reach up to him,

But his song descended in everyone’s heart.

.

Now that king, looking like a beggar, has gone far away,

And once again the streets of our land are sad.

Only a few remember his special ways;

Only a few glances remain among his loving friends,

But his song has made an abode in everyone’s heart.

.

And there are thousands who know the pleasure of his melody;

All the beauties of this song are eternal.

Its intensity, its tumult, its passion—

This song, quick and sharp like bursting flames,

The heart of the breeze of non-existence wounded by its flash,

Just like the lamp, fearless of the wildness of hot wind;

Or like the candle of the assembly, indifferent to the coming of dawn.

.

     

.

From: Naqsh-i faryādī (Image of the Supplicant). Dihlī: Urdū Ghar, 1941.pp. 87 – 88