The Tartar’s Dream
Kahin Tarsa Bachon Ki Chashme-e-Bebaak!
Prayer‐mat and priestly turban have turned footpad,
With wanton boysʹ bold glances men are flattered;
Qabaye Mulk-o-Doulat Chaak Dar Chaak!
The Churchʹs mantle and the creed in shreds,
The robe of State and nation torn and tattered.
Na Kha Jaye Kahin Shuale Ko Khashaak!
I cling to faith but may its spark not soon
Lie quenched under these rubbish‐heaps thick‐scattered!
Samar-o-Bukhara Ki Kaf-e-Khak!
Bokharaʹs humble dust and Samarkandʹs
The turbulent billows of many winds have battered.
Bila Anghastari-o-Mann Nageenam”
A gem set in a ring of misery
That circles me on every side, am I.*
Utha Taimoor Ki Turbat Se Ek Noor
Suddenly quivered the dust of Samarkand,
And from an ancient tomb a light shone, pure
Sada Ayi Ke “Main Hun Rooh-e-Taimoor
As the first gleam of daybreak, and a voice
Was heard:—“I am the spirit of Timur!
Nahin Allah Ki Taqdeer Mehsoor
Chains may hold fast the men of Tartary,
But Godʹs firm purposes no bonds endure
Ke Turani Ho Turani Se Mehjoor?
Is this what life holds—that Turaniaʹs peoples
All hope in one another must abjure?
Jahan Ra Inqilabe Degare Dah”
Call in the soul of man a new fire to birth!
Cry a new revolution over the earth!”