نماند آن تاب و تب در خون نابشنروید لالہ از کشت خرابش
In his pure blood shines not that vigour and heat,In his ruined land grows no poppies sweet.
نیام او تہی چون کیسئہ اوبہ طاق خانہ ویران کتابش
He emptied his pocket and sheath likewise,In a ruined arch thus his Book still lies.
From Armaghan-e-Hijaz (Persian) (1938) by Allama Muhammad Iqbal · verified text, Iqbal Academy Pakistan