Under oppression's shadows condemned to breathe,
Still for a time we must bear them, and tears, and endure
What our forefathers, not our own faults, bequeath:
Fettered limbs, each impulse held on a chain,
Minds in bondage, our words all watched and set down—
Courage still nerves us, or how should we still exist,
Now with existence only a beggar's gown,
Tattered, and patched every hour with new rags of pain?
Yes, but to tyranny not many hours are left now;
Patience a little, few hours of lamenting remain.
In this parched air of an age that desert sands choke
We must stay now—not for ever and ever stay!
Under this load beyond words of a foreign yoke
We must submit for a while—not for ever submit!
Dust of affliction that clings to your beauty today,
Crosses unnumbered that mar our few mornings of youth,
Torment of silver nights, a pain with no cure,
Heartache unanswered, the body's long cry of despair—
Only a few days, dear one, a few days more.
—Faiz Ahmed Faiz