Why should I ask wise men about my origin?
For my mind ponders on the end of my life.
Raise thy Selfhood so high that before each dispensation,
God Himself may ask thee what thy wishes are.
If I am an alchemist, my only alchemy
Is the yearning and the passion that consume my heart.
I know not about those dark, unknown, mysterious eyes,
That, in their fathomless depths, have power over my fate.
If that absorbed man of the West * had been alive today,
Iqbal would have taught him about the attributes of God.
The agony of morning sighs has lacerated my heart,
If this is a punishment, O God, what sin have I committed?