غزل شمارهٔ 23

A melody swept me through and through and nobody knew; the air and the note is all they know: The high and low.

Love in my heart was made to chime with thought sublime; not like the moon I wax and wane; I never attain.

Weep no more, but with brave heart take disunion’s ache; Love, till it sigheth, scarce can guess its attractiveness.

Be thou a torch, and set afire the bush and briar; men of clay have no right to be in life’s sanctuary.

A falcon thou art; yield not thy soul to domestic fowl; rise, spread thy wing and pinion, and soar both high and far.

The poet’s a glow that giveth light in life’s dark night; a radiance shines in his wings anon, and sometimes none.

Iqbal in his song his Self has bared and truth declared; this new-unbeliever knoweth naught of cloister rote.