Tablet and Pen

I shall not cease to feed this pen, but still,
Keep record of what things pass through the soul,
Still gather means for love to work its will,
...Keep green this age round which blank deserts roll.

Though these days’ bitterness must grow sharper yet,
And tyrants not renounce their tyranny,
I taste their bitter wrongs without regret,
But while breath lasts will nurse each malady –

While yet the tavern stands, with its red wine
Crimson the temple’s high cold walls; and while
My heartblood feeds my tears and lets them shine,
Paint with each drop the loved one’s rosy smile.

Let others live for calm indifferent peace;
I listen to earth’s pangs, and will not cease.

by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
(Translated from the Urdu by V. G. Kiernan)