I am thunder, lightning; I am unrest, quicksilver;

I worship myself, self-conscious, proud;

I am the knife which can cut the throat of oppression, 

The spark which can burn the harvest of cruelty.

.

At my cry the rich stuff their fingers in their ears; 

Bring the axe! Let me bathe in a river of blood.

.

I will break the haughty heads of the masters of Time,

Shatter the earth-and-sky door with the tumult of my roar;

I will end the oppression of the world’s people,

Destroy the pleasure domes of the rich.

.

I will break the captives’ chains.

Let me free the world from the clutches of distress.

.

Let me be lightning and fall upon that idol, the Past;

Let me grind outmoded customs into the dust;

Let me erase the differences of religions and nations;

Let me turn Tomorrow’s dreams into the Present.

.

I am fire; yes, leaping fire,

I am fire. Now let me set everything ablaze.

.

From: Bisāt̤-i raqṣ (Dance Carpet). Ḥaidarābād, Inḍiyā: Istiqbāliyah kameṭī jashn-i Mak̲h̲dūm, 1966. pp. 11-12

Bāg̲h̲ī is quoted in full in Urdu Poetry, 1935-1970