‘Know then we Cyclops are a race above
These air-bred people, and their goat-nursed Jove:
And learn, our pow'r proceeds with thee and thine,
Not as He wills, but as ourselves incline.' Pope
The Odyssey, Homer
O blind to fate! Ye err, the lone wolf howls,
This grove's got horrid mazez, yet ye speak
My Odysseus thus when the fortune allows
Magic, mixt the potions, fraudulent of soul:
Wave the wand, on the given word, hence,
To thy fellows, dreadful they are as seated
‘Go, be a beast! -I heard and ye are a man.'
Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
September 3,2014.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem