Address to the Muslim Youth

Have ever you pondered, O Muslim youth, On deep and serious things? What is this world in which this you Is only a broken star?

You came of a stock that nourishes you In the close embracing of love, A stock that trampled under foot Dara who wore the crown.

Civilization’s grace they forged To a world-disposing law, Those folks that came from the Arab sands That cradled their camel-men.

The simple life was the pride they had In their deeds of glorious show. How does the lovely face feel need Of rouge and mole and art?

In pure plain life and in fear of God They lived their modest way. The rich man stood in no fear of the poor That he gives his wealth in fee.

In short, in words can I tell to you What were these desert men? Holders, Keepers, Saviours, Adorners Of what we call the world.

If I should draw the sketch aright Limning the form in words, The vision I’d draw would be better far Than all your fancy paints.

There is no standard by which to judge Yours and your father’s worth. You utter words but they did deeds. They roamed: you stay at home.

We have despoiled the inheritance That we from our fathers won. The heaven from the zenith has dashed it down

And cast it on the ground. What is this weeping at ordered things That it is the affair of a day? Except the help of all-certain law The world has no other plan.

But if those pearls of learning’s lore, Those books our fathers wrote We see in Europe made scholar’s joy, The heart is rent with grief.

Kinan’s old man once knew, That the light of his eyes to Zuleikha’s eyes Might bring the brightness of sight.