مرد حر محکم ز ورد ’’لاتخف‘‘ما بمیدان سر بجیب او سر بکف

The free man is strong through repetition of Fear not ;in the battlefield we are hesitant while he is daring;

مرد حر از لاالہ روشن ضمیرمی نگردد بندۂ سلطان و میر

the free man is clairvoyant through There is no deity,he does not fall into the snare of kings and lords;

مرد حر چون اشتران باری بردمرد حر باری برد خاری خورد

like the camel, the free man carries burdens :he carries burdens but lives on thorny bushes.

پای خود را آنچنان محکم نہدنبض رہ از سوز او بر می جہد

He sets his foot so firmly on the groundthat the pulse of the pathway begins to throb with his ardour;

جان او پایندہ تر گردد ز موتبانگ تکبیرش برون از حرف و صوت

his soul becomes more everlasting through death,his call of takbir is beyond words and sounds.

ہر کہ سنگ راہ را داند زجاجگیرد آن درویش از سلطان خراج

The dervish gets tribute from kings,who regards the stones of the pathway as mere glass.

گرمی طبع تو از صہبای اوستجوی تو پروردۂ دریای اوست

The warmth of your nature is due to his red wine;your stream is watered by his river.

پادشاہان در قباہای حریرزرد رو از سھم آن عریان فقیر

Kings in their silken robesare pallid from fear of that naked faqir.

سر دین ما را خبر، او را نظراو درون خانہ ما بیرون در

The essence of faith for us is report, for him it is visionhe is within the house while we are outside the door;

ما کلیسا دوست، ما مسجد فروشاو ز دست مصطفی پیمانہ نوش

we are friends of the Church, we sell mosques,He quaffs cups from the bands of Mustafa himself;

نی مغان را بندہ، نی ساغر بدستما تہی پیمانہ او مست الست

He is not indebted to the wine-seller, nor has be the cup in his hand ;we have empty cups, while he is intoxicated since eternity.

چہرہ گل از نم او احمر استز آتش ما دود او روشنتر است

The face of the rose is red through his grace,his smoke is brighter than our fire.

دارد اندر سینہ تکبیر اممدر جبین اوست تقدیر امم

He has in his bosom a clarion call to nations,their destiny is inscribed on his forehead.

قبلۂ ما گہ کلیسا، گاہ دیراو نخواہد رزق خویش از دست غیر

We turn in worship sometimes to the Church and sometimes to the temple,he does not seek his sustenance from others’ hands;

ما ہمہ عبد فرنگ او عبدہاو نگنجد در جہان رنگ و بو

we are all slaves of the Franks, he is His slave,he cannot be contained in this world of colour and smell.

صبح و شام ما بہ فکر ساز و برگآخر ما چیست تلخیہای مرگ

Our days and nights are spent in anxiety for livelihood;but what is our end ? – pains of death.

در جہان بی ثبات او را ثباتمرگ او را از مقامات حیات

He alone has stability amidst this world of instability;death for him is one of the stations of life.

اہل دل از صحبت ما مضمحلگل ز فیض صحبتش دارای دل

The people of the heart feel frustrated in our company,but the grace of his company puts a heart even into dust.

کار ما وابستۂ تخمین و ظناو ہمہ کردار و کم گوید سخن

Our life is subject to doubts and misgivings,he is all activity and little talk;

ما گدایان کوچہ گرد و فاقہ مستفقر او از لاالہ تیغی بدست

we are beggars roaming the streets and destitute,his Faqr is equipped with the sword of There is no deity;

ما پر کاہے اسیر گرد بادضربش از کوہ گران جوئی گشاد

We are mere straw caught in a whirlwind,his stroke on the mountain brings out springs of water.

محرم او شو ز ما بیگانہ شوخانہ ویران باش و صاحب خانہ شو

Get acquainted with him and avoid us,destroy your present house and acquire a new one.

شکوہ کم کن از سپہر گرد گردزندہ شو از صحبت آن زندہ مرد

Complain not of the revolving skyrevive yourself through associating with that living person.

صحبت از علم کتابی خوشتر استصحبت مردان حر آدم گر است

Association is better than knowledge of books,companionship of free men is creative of men.

مرد حر دریای ژرف و بیکرانآب گیر از بحر و نی از ناودان

A free man is a deep and shoreless sea,get your water from an ocean and not from a canal.

سینۂ این مردمی جوشد چو دیگپیش او کوہ گران یک تودہ ریگ

His breast is in ferment like a boiling kettle,for him a solid mountain is like a heap of sand.

روز صلح آن برگ و ساز انجمنہم چو باد فرودین اندر چمن

In peace, he is the ornament of the assembly,like spring wind to the garden;

روز کین آن محرم تقدیر خویشگور خود می کندد از شمشیر خویش

on the day of battle, he, the knower of his destiny,digs his own grave with his own sword;

ای سرت گردم گریز از ما چو تیردامن او گیر و بیتابانہ گیر

fly from us like an arrow,and catch hold of his skirt with a frenzy.

می نروید تخم دل از آب و گلبی نگاہی از خداوندان دل

The seed of the heart does not develop out of water and clay,without the look of the people of the heart.

اندر این عالم نیرزی با خسیتا نیاویزی بدامان کسی

In this world you do not count more than a piece of strawunless you attach yourself to the skirt of somebody.