Life is not a bed of roses
But for some people
It is always a bed of thorns
A throne of thorns
A crown of thorns
A chariot of thorns

One day I met with Iqbal
My head was bowed, my heart dejected
I said to him in a low voice:

"My life seems to me meaningless
I am a tiny being in this vastness of time and space
My existence seems to me false."

He smiled, and said in a voice bigger than life.

"Are you a mere particle of dust?
Why have you not tighten the knot of your ego.
Hold fast to your tiny being
How glorious is to burnish one's ego
And to test its lustre in the presence of the Sun !
Re-chisel, then, your ancient frame;
And build up a new being.
Such being is a real being;
Or else your being is a mere ring of smoke."

I roam after the flame of love
My heart is burning
And gushing out of it is the blood of a sacred desire
The flowers are dying and the dawn is red
And the sun is in its crimson sadness
Why is life so long?

No essence is without existence
No existence is without essence
No part is without whole
No whole is without part
No being is without nothing
No nothing is without being
No finite is without infinite
No infinite is without finite
No rational is without actual
No actual is without rational

O! The Banyan tree
When I see thee
My heart stops aching
My bliss returns to me

Your verdant foliage,
Makes your shade serene
But I know very well,
You are as lonely as me

I am a stranger to myself
There is a wide chasm
Between me and me
I cannot know myself
I cannot find myself

It has caused me
A deep cosmic alienation
And metaphysical anguish