This is one of my favourite epics written by friend Efadul Haq
The rippling Yamuna of the East,
And the chafing Caspian to the West,
The lofty Kush of North,
And the thirsty Samarkand to the South,
All that and all in between
Belonged to his majesty’s grace.
The sun that rose from ripples
Waved adieu amidst the waves.
The wind that tumbled down from mountains
Sank in the deserts’ dry brows.
His kingdom was a world in itself with –
Come and go
Ebb and flow.
Lands that were rich and rare
Became lands of his;
Lands that were barbaric and bare
Became lands jeweled with domes, minarets, mosques and bridge.
Tall towers he erected
As if to moon their stairs would bloom.
Merciless swords he held
On necks that wouldn’t bow low.
On ivory fanged elephants he rode
An exquisite pleasure palace made his imperial abode.
Flagging a crescent moon and sparkling star
He ordered his swarms of army…
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