Zaburi Ajam [Electronic resources] نسخه متنی

53

One by one we count our breath

On the narrow road to death;

Like a raging sea we roar

As we walk along the shore.

Though the terror of the sea

Gives to none security,

In the secret of the shell

Self-preserving we may dwell.

Ask them not to price the heart,

Money-changers of the mart;

We can estimate alone

The true merit of our stone.

Tribute none is asked of us

For our fiefdom ruinous;

Beggars sitting by the road,

We are princes of our- blood.

There is one (O wonderful!)

Dwells beside me in my soul;

Who shall say, if it be thee

Or myself, I meet in me?

Draw aside fate’s veil, I pray,

From this Adam shaped of clay;

On thy path precipitate

For our coming we await.