In the eye through my eyes i see a world beneath the skies where the innocent die and the learned lie
The soul is shut and the soul is sealed in a lightless womb beneath the scorching veil
The day is night and the night is day neither the children sleep nor for their parents they weep
For when the mother begets the child she craves is her mistress born to whom the parents are slaves
And when the parents grow feeble and when the parents are grown their debts are paid in old homes they are thrown
And we go to our mosque and where indeed there is one, for at every inch a new call is sung
We raise our hands and we tie them low, astride we stand,