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DigarguN hai jahaN taroN ki gardish tez hai Saqi
from Muhammad Iqbal
translation by M. Shahid Alam
The world changes utterly: the stars spin faster, O Saqi. In every heart I hear the cry of surrender, O Saqi.
God's journeymen have lost their arts, their certainty. Whose artifice deceives them, who has this power, O Saqi.
Weak-willed, weak-hearted, dimly they mope about. Deep is their need for that life-enhancing elixir, O Saqi.
The Muslim lacks the fire that can ignite his heart. Why is the birth of spirit so hard to deliver, O Saqi.
There rises none like Rumi from the gardens of 'Ajam. Persia is the same, unchanged her sky and water, O Saqi.
Iqbal will not walk away from his fields laid waste. A little dew and sweat will revive its power, O Saqi.
This dervish is privy to the rites, the rigors of power. His words are rare, he ignites visions of splendor, O Saqi.
The Real War Begins
