The Poetic Notebook of Mullazade Zaigham of Laulab

(9)

When flowers’ bookshop opened in the garden Mullah’s bookish knowledge lost all value.

The spring breeze was exhilarating, poise-breaking,the old man of Indrab burst into ghazal-singing.

The tulip, of fiery skirt, said: it doth reveal the secrets of the soul.

Who calls sleep awhile in the grave as eternal death, sows seeds of destruction in the earth.

Life is not a succession of days and nights, nor is it intoxication and dreamy sleep;

life is to burn in one’s fire: happy is the man who grasps this truth.

If thou snatch’st a spark from heart’s fire, thou canst be a sun under the sky.

(10)

A free man’s vein is hard like stone’s, a slave’s is tender like vine’s;

A slave’s heart is dead, frustrated and never sees the light of hope; A free man’s heart is alive, full of zest and happiness.

A free man’s wealth, a shining heart and warm breath, that of slave, only moist eyes.

The slave lacks sincerity and generosity though he be adept in argumentation.

And never the twine shall be equal,the one is slave to fate, the other, master of fate.