Classic Poem

Our name it is dust — we are creatures of dust.
Of dust were we made, all senseless and foul.

We ne'er offered worship, astray in the world.
Our eyes we raised sky-wards, riding swollen with pride.

We pleased wife and children, but the Master forgot.
Right's way we forsook, and practised ill deeds.

Him each moment remember, who fashioned this life.
All is dust heaped on dust, understand it, O fool.

Dust are horses and elephants, dust is all royal state.
Good deeds only, says Maluk, as memorials abide.