O, tent chamberlain! Leave the tent hark; the guide has gone beyond the base park. To drive the litters now flops the-wan-brain, I let the heart hence to take up the reins. Iqbal takes the first line from a verse of Manuchehree, whose full name was Najam-ud-Din Ahmed s/o Yaqub Manuchehr. He was a courtier of Mehmud Ghaznavi.

I keep my eyes penchant on hearts essence, though writhing I am resting on heart’s fence. From cities and bergs I liked to flee, to the deserts breeze I look up with glee.

I know not who dazzled and killed this heart, no rest since then is destined to this part. I took him to desert which pained him more. On a brook side too he be wept to the core.

Ask not of lustre drunk’s caravan scene, they have left the world whole and all its means. By God my feelings rouse from peals of bell, as if the wind booms through canes wood deli. (Jalwa mastan: Lost in the sheen of God by submerging in Him, drowned in Him, in a daze. From peals of bells; the pilgrims feel as if they would teach their destination soon. Thus the hells rouse their fervour and frenzy.)

I cherish for Yasrib though I am old, I am moved to singing in love’s sweet hold. As the birds at dusk would fly back to nest, I cherish to fly for the desert’s quest (quest in loneliness there).