The only treasure reason has, is knowledge,
But what thou needst is a seer’s eye, riot reason.
All life. is but a constant passion to move,
And in this journey, thine is the highest place.
Life is not the flow of blood in the veins,
Its essence is a consuming warmth of the soul.
O bride of a flower! Do not thus veil thyself.
For I am nothing but a soft morning breeze.
What merchants of the West consider scarce,
Is nothing but the commodity of skill.
They say Iqbal, though poor, is generous,
But has nothing to offer but fire and flames.