The League of Nations

To the end that wars may cease on this old planet, The suffering peoples of the world have founded a new institution.

So far as I see it amounts to this: A number of undertakers have formed a company to allot the graves.

Schopenhauer and Neitzsche

A bird flew from its nest and ranged about the garden; Its soft breast was pierced by a rose thorn.

It reviled the nature of Time’s garden; It throbbed with its own pain and pain of others.

It thought the tulip was branded with the blood of innocents; In the closed bud it saw the guile of Spring.

Saying, “Get the profit out of loss: The rose has created pure gold by rending her breast. If thou art wounded, make the pain thy remedy.

Accustom thyself to thorns, that thou mayst become entirely one with the garden.

Philosophy and Politics

Philosopher with statesman weigh not thou: Those are sun blinded, these are tearless eyes.

One shapes a false argument for his truth, The other a block of logic for his lies.

Ahriman’s hirelings, Warriors of kings, Draw oppression’s sword For a loaf of bread.

Evil is their good, And the husk their food. Friends of others, these Are their own kin’s foes.

Country, church and crown Are narcotics grown By the masters to Buy their slaves’ souls with.

Karl Marx

For all his wisdom, man is not yet selfaware, And capitalism has rendered man man’s murderer.

Hegel

To know the whole truth one must taste Both grapes and bitter gourds.

So fond is Nature of antitheses That it has set at war Employees and employers, slaves and lords.

 
عقل دورو آفرید فلسفہ خود پرست
درس رضا می دہی بندہ مزدور را

The two faced intellect with its philosophy Of egotism bids the worker suffer patiently.

Mazdak

Of the empires of the Kaisers and the Czars. Death dances a new dance in kings’ and rich men’s palaces.

For ages does an Abraham burn in a Nimrod’s fire Before he can cast out old idols from The sanctuary of his Lord.

Gone is the age of Parvez, wake up now, O victims of his tyranny. Wrest back from him The good things he deprived you of.

Kohkan

Though outwardly so simple and so shy, My loved one is a tyrant, sly And full of mischief and deceit. She looks all amity, But is a fighter in reality.

Like Christ’s her tongue is sweet: Her heart is hard like that of Genghis Khan, That cruel man.

My intellect has broken down: My madness will soon reach its crown; My vision has dissolved in tears. Appear to me: I pine for you.

My pickaxe has laid low a hill At your command; but still The world appears To favour Parvez, as you do.

From earth to sky all things seem running in a race. The caravan moves fast: make haste, increase your pace.

Nietzsche

The heart of the philosopher Bled at man’s sinews laxity So his thought fashioned a new cast of man.

He raised a fresh storm in the West— It was as if a lunatic Had crashed into a glassware factory.

Einstein

Like Moses he sought a theophany Until his mind, in quest of light, Unveiled its mystery.

A moment’s flight from heaven’s height To the observer’s eye— Such is the unimaginable speed Of its fast beating wings, indeed.

Sequestered, it lies at the core Of black coal in a pit. When manifest in its full glory, it Burns up like straw a bush on Mount Sinai.

Unchanging in this magic world of more Or less, of high and low, Of far and near, of to and fro, Its make up has in it two sets Of qualities, engaged in mutual strife,

Like brightness, darkness, soothing, burning, life And death, one of which sets begets The angels and the houris, while The other shows in Ahriman the vile.

What can I say about this subtle minded sage Except that from The race of Moses and of Aaron there has come A Zarathustra in our age?

Byron

Flames would spring up, Just as rose and tulip do, From the garden’s soil, If you poured a drop or two On it from his cup, Always on the boil.

England’s chilly climate Did not suit his spirit. His heart’s message’s great ardour Set aflame love’s messenger.

What a fairyland of beauty Was created by his fancy! Seeing his epiphanies, Youth goes into ecstasies.

But his genius, that high soaring bird, Left its nest to fall into a snare, Which it preferred To soaring in the air.

Nietzsche

If song thou crave, flee form him! Thunder roars in the reed of his pen.

He plunged a lancet into Europe’s heart; His hand is red with the blood of the Cross.

He reared a pagoda on the ruins of the Temple: His heart is a true believer, but his brain an infidel.

Burn thyself in the fire of that Nimrod, For the garden of Abraham is produced from fire.

Jalal and Hegel

One night I was engaged in teasing out The knots of Hegel’s philosophic thought,

Which tore the veil of transient, finite things, Laying bare the infinite, the absolute,

And whose conception’s grand, imposing range Made the world shrink into a tiny mote.

When I plunged into that tempestuous sea, My mind became just like a storm tossed boat.

But soon a spell lulled me to slumber and Shut out the finite and the infinite.

My inner vision sharpened, I observed An old man whose face was a godly sight—

The man whose spirit’s glory, like the sun, Has made the sky of Rum and Syria bright;

Whose flame in this benighted wilderness Shines like a path illuminating light;

From whose words meanings grow spontaneously Like tulips riotously breaking out.

“You sleep,” said he. “Awake, awake. To ply A boat in a mirage is folly’s height.

You’re bidding wisdom guide you on love’s path! You’re looking for the sun by candle light!”

Petofi

In this garden, for just one moment, You sang of the bride like rose, You increased the sorrow of some hearts, And dispelled the sorrow of others.

You painted the tulip’s palm with y our blood; And opened the bud’s heart with your sighs at dawn.

You are lost in your song ‐because your verse is your tomb: You did not return to earth because you were not of earth.