Infatuated have the Pathans become for ranks and titles,
May God preserve me ever from such desires!
Whose is knowledge and counsel, if not the warriors?
Plain is all to him as the Koran read in the schools.
There is none of them who knows aught of plans or schemes,
Well am I informed of the tempers of them all.
Great the weakness of the Pathans, as thou seest;
By the titles of the Moguls they are led away.
No thought is theirs of honour, fame, or pride;
All their talk is of either rank or gold.
Far preferable to me is the Khatak buckler o'er my loins,
Than the golden badge of service hanging round my neck.
The nights in the Emperor's prison are ever in my mind,
When all night long I called to God in vain.
When the Pathans drew their swords on the Moguls,
Every Pathan led a Mogul bound beside his horse.
No thought have they for honour now, Khush-hal;
Of what stock can these Pathans then have been sprung?