I and you

In me no mind of Moses, in you no virtue Of Abraham: idolatrous foes like theirs, New Samris, Azars, have with eldritch arts Destroyed us

I am a song burned out in the throat, And you a shrivelled colour, a frightened scent; I, memory of the pain of longing—you, Echo of a lament for love.

My joys Are gall, my honey venom, my soul twinbrother To blank oblivion: your heart’s temple pawned To Persia’s strange gods, your religion bartered to infidels

Life’s every breath is numbered— To count them, terror: to wail at life’s brief span, Poison; do not bewail that terror, do not Swallow the poison of that wailing; take The road by which the saints came to their crown,

And have no thought, if one spark burns in your dust, Of wealth or penury; for here on earth Black peasant bread breeds Hyder’s strength.

Oh lamp of the shrine! teach me, your circling moth, a way Of worship to renew in me that nature Which like the salamander feeds on flame.

Against the guardians of the shrine, the shrine Brings accusation of such villainy Decked out as loyal zeal, that let me once Proclaim it in the very idol-house,The senseless monsters would cry out ‘Oh Vishnu, Vishnu!’

Not new today the world’s arena, Not new the antagonists, face to face, hands clenched; Unchanged of purpose stands the Lion of God, Unchanged the opposing champions.

Aid us, Prophet, Lord of Arabia and the alien lands! Awaiting here thy bounty are those beggars Whom thou has given the pride of Alexander.