I heard that Tughrul one night in autumn

Passed by a Hindu guard on his way to the station.

From snow, rain, and floods that did fall,

He shivered and trembled like the star Canopus, the tall.

His heart swelled with mercy towards him, a compassion so vast,

Saying, ‘Now wear my fur coat, as you pass.’

Wait a moment on the roof, you must stay,

So I can send a servant on his way.

While this was happening, the morning breeze did blow,

The king hid inside his royal hall from the cold below.

A beautiful-faced young woman was in the crowd by his side,

Who, in her nature, had a slight desire to confide.

The sight of her quiver was so wonderfully bright,

That the poor Hindu guard forgot his plight.

The fur coat passed by his ear,

But he couldn’t bear it due to his own despair.

Wasn’t the suffering of the cold enough to bear?

The miseries of fate added more to his despair.

Look how the king slept carelessly, his head in rest,

What did his wife say to him when she awoke at the crest?

Did your good fortune slip your mind?

When your hands embraced in the love you find?

Your night goes in joy and merry delight,

What do you know of the night we fight?

The caravan’s head was lowered to the cauldron, hot,

And those who fell from its path were left in the sand, forgot.

Oh Lord, keep the boat afloat, steady on the waves,

So the poor can cross, escaping the watery caves.

Stop, young men, swift in your haste,

For there are old ones in the caravan, slow in their pace.

You, sound asleep in the caravan’s shade,

Hold the camel’s reins, as the caravan’s leader parades.

What of the marsh and your mountain so tall,

Ask those who’ve fallen behind, who struggle to crawl.

Your mountainous form is carried by the lion’s stride,

What do you know of the pain those walking beside?

The peaceful rest of the sleepers in their den,

What do they know of the hunger of those who’re malnourished then?