By Muhammad Yakub Khan

(Chief Editor “The Light”, January 16, 1941)



Art thou gone, My Salim, O light o´mine eyes?

My darkened Day, the Moon, the twinkling Sky,

And eddying Canal Waters running by,

Nod. Alas, they may be right! For I,

My eyes sweep through the lanes of Muslim Town,

Through lonely halls and empty fields of play,

For thee in vain, and darkly, darkly own

The dire Fact, and let my aching clay

Sign bloody peace with conquering Death unseen.


Yes, thou art gone, My Salim, My Peace of Mind!

Ah my heart! Thy dust to dust consigned,

My sorrowing eyes with wreaths of tears entwined

Look for the lovely face so sweet and kind.

My pining heart would fain descend or soar

To Infinity with death securely sealed,

Right on to Illiyyin to Heaven´s door,

To realms of deadly Fate itself, indeed,

Too see thy face once more.