دمید آن لالہ از مشت غبارمکہ خونش می تراود از کنارم
Grow that poppy from the dust of mine,Whose blood is dripping from my heart’s line.
قبولش کن ز راہ دلنوازیکہ من غیر از دلی، چیزی ندارم
This heart be received as a favour great,I have no fine offer than heart in plate.
From Armaghan-e-Hijaz (Persian) (1938) by Allama Muhammad Iqbal · verified text, Iqbal Academy Pakistan