From Allama Iqbal’s Secrets Of The Self (Asrar-e-Khudi, part XV – trans. Nicholson)
The hungry emperor
The fire of his hunger has consumed a whole world,
His sword is followed by famine and plague,
His buildings lays a wide waste.
The people are crying out because of his indigence;
His empty-handedness causes him to plunder the weak.
His power is an enemy to all…
Humankind are the caravan and he the brigand
In his self-delusion and ignorance
He calls pillage by the name of empire
Both the royal troops and those of the enemy
Are cloven in twain by the sword of his hunger.
The beggar’s hunger consumes his own soul,
But the Sultan’s hunger destroys state and religion.
Whoso shall draw the sword for any other than Allah,
His sword is sheathed in his own breast.
From Allama Iqbal’s Javid-Nama trans. Arthur J. Arberry.
Break the Glamor of Wizadry!
The poor man is a fire, rulership and power imperial are straw;
a naked sword is ample enough for the august pomp of kings.
The drumming of the dervish, Alexander’s clamorous vanity
the one is the rapture of Moses, the other the Samiri’s conjuring.
The one slays with a glance, the other slays with an army;
the one is all peace and amity, the other is all war and wrangling.
Both were conquerors of the world, both sought immortality,
the one by the guidance of violence, the other guided by love.
Bring the hammer-blow of the dervish, break the rampart of Alexander;
renew the ancient wont of Moses, break the glamour of wizadry!
