سبزہ نا روئیدہ زیب گلشنم
گل بشاخ اندر نہان در دامنم
بالم از خاور رسید و شب شکست
شبنم نو بر گل عالم نشست
انتظار صبح خیزان می کشم
اے خوشا زردشتیان آتشم
نغمہ از زخمہ بے پرواستم
من نواے شاعر فرداستم
نغمۂ من از جہان دیگر است
ان جرس را کاروان دیگر است
My garden is adorned with a verdure which is yet to sprout from the earth. My skirt is full of flowers which are yet to emerge from the branch. The light of dawn has shone in the East. The flower of world is bedewed afresh. I wait for the early-risers of the morning. How fortunate the worshipers of my fire ! I am a note which does not require the hand of a musician to tune I am the song of the poet of tomorrow. My song belongs to a different world. My bell is calling a different caravan.
