At the Mausoleum of Ahmad Shah Baba Founder of the Afghan Nation

The grave of that enlightened king from whose self a nation arose;

its dome is regarded as a sanctuary by the sky,

like Fateh, conquerer of Constantinople, this stalwart fighter struck coins in the realm of poetry even;

angels invoke blessings on his grave. By the munificent heart and pearl‐scattering hand he had

he acquired realms and gave them away without taking any thought

A connoisseur, a seer and wielder of the sword, his soul fell into talk with me.

He said: I know where you stand, your high station; your song is alchemy for denizens of the earth.

Stocks and stones acquire a heart from your bounty, the Sinai of the heart is bright with your speech.

O you knower of the Friend’s street, come to me, and stay awhile, for you hear the smell of the beloved.

Happy he who made the self his mirror and in that recognised the world.

This earth and the sky have grown old, the moon has become blind because of the indifference of the sun.

There is need of the heat of commotion now so that the pristine hue and scent should come back.

A true believer acts like Israfil whose trumpet shatters every thing old.

O you whom God has granted a restless spirit, you know the secrets of rulership and Faith,

tell, O tell the son of Nadir patently; disclose what is in your mind to Zahir unreservedly.