This was a land of holy people, where

A philosopher, in his waking dream, once saw

His desire’s image: wholesome air, virgin fields and lusty springs!

The traveler, arriving here, begins to think:

“Was that dream a nightmare?

—That dream, a nightmare?

.

O philosopher, 

How could that celestial vision 

Be this land of Nimrod’s divinity!

Today we stand, disillusioned

By faith, by action, by love,

These broken shreds of

Sham philosophy you wove!

.

After all, who shall ask:

Those ravages, wrought by Tartar hordes, 

Were witnesses to what priceless justice?

Persia, a land of magic, of art, of wisdom, of song,

Arabia, a kingdom of honey and dates, of milk, of wine,

These lands mourn their ruins–

What happened to them?

We are powerless captives of days worse than theirs!

.

To whom shall we say:

Houses

Of iron, of wood, of stone, of silver

Cast a spell of beautiful harmony;

Why lament a broken spell?

Whoever believed such harmony would last!

.

Goblet and cup are meant to break;

One even accepts the beloved’s fading cheeks.

But—here, today, our hearts 

(—Ruined cities of human desires 

higher and better than the galaxies) 

Mourn the shattered accord of Meaning and Word!

.

~~~

.

I fear the thought of future days

Where I see 

The dream of the harmony of Word and Meaning torn apart;

Where quack philosophers, sleepwalking beggars, crazed sufis clutter the streets

Where life is void of hope,

And our civilization—chronically ill—in the throes of death!

.

.

    With Munibur Rahman

.

From: Irān men̲ ajnabī. Lāhaur : Goshah-yi Adab, 1957. In: Kulliyāt-i rāshid (Collected Works of Rashed). Dihlī: Kitābī Dunyā, 2011. pp. 153 – 55