Wars start up wherever your eye glances,
And the young men moan marching on to the batteries.
Mira
is the unkempt old man you see on the road;
He has taken his death-wound in battle.
From the Pus'hto (Afghans, nineteenth century).
BALLADE OF AJAM THE WASHERMAN
Come to me to-day wearing your green collar,
Make your two orange sleeves float in the air, and come to me.
Touch your hair with essence and colour your clothes yellow;