بخش 7 - شعرای عرب

To Arab poets sweet on my part say, I shun to versify on red lips gay.

From a beam I had of Holy Book’s light, After hundred years nights I see a dawn bright

I caused in his soul a verve a heat, To cottage or castle a dust I treat.

This brook may once vie a noisy sea’s pride, As I gave this brook a passion of tide.

You leave making now the portraits on wall, Be friendly with conscience and ego’s call.

Since you got growth in my nation’s lawn, Fill your song’s flame in their brain and brawn.

My heart has a grief, and dust has a heart, Yet this old branch claims His moist’s great part.

With thy skill’s magic cause a fount so, In each Muslim lies a fountain lo!

Of virtues of God Muslim has a part, Like secrets of God a secret is heart.

I saw not his beauty save of God’s own, In the cosmos conscience his roots are grown.

Give to his dust that flame and might, Which brings into being a sun from night.

Hit a tune and tone due to whose grace, He gets a new verve from world’s new face.

A Muslim you were named for grief’s bargain, To be restive for friends in pains and strains.

He cares not for himself in nation’s cause, He shouts “I am Ummah from every clause.”

On whom were opened the secrets of soul, With his own eyeshe sees the cosmos whole.

Make in thy heart his love’s cosy room, And turn the autumn to vernal bloom.

So guard the nature of thy mud and dust, A bliss, trance and burning for thee is must.

I see empty bowls of the nation’s whole, A lasting wine lasts in thy heart’s own bowl.

The hill and desert night defies thy day, The birds and waves know not their old songs gay.

This world wont lit up from the hermit’s lamp, Thy sun light is needed in every camp.

Read the clear writing on thy forehead’s slate, Find out a way to change thy future fate.

Like me find a way on the Harem’s land, To know thy worth true, thy own grit and sand.