To The Poet
You have raised the trampled dust
To the sky, the abode of the thunder,
You decorated it with the lustre of luminous stars,
You have embodied faith in the indomitable soul.
Your inspiring message returned time and again
In crisis strife struggle, in nightly terror,
Like the morning sun returning in deep darkness,
Like the holy Gabriel coming down alone,
Tearing apart the thick blue canopy of the endless sky
His wings scattering stars on both sides,
He comes down; down to the tired heart's cool recess
With new happy tidings in his musical cadence.
On his way strewn with death he spreads out life's pleasures
In songs that wake up countless young ones in their nests.
[Translated by Abdur Rashid Khan]