Imam Ali's Might And Brawn
I feel myself content
I wish you joy of wit,
To you by Plato's lent.
This is the charm and grace
In view of mine and sight
That heavens too prostrate
Before such main and might
Without great majestic height
Grace is not of much use:
Song is mere puff of breath,
If can't produce rapture.
I would not go to hell
Whose fire is dull and tame
To suffer for my sins
I like a rearing flame
Muhammad Iqbal - The Rod Of The Moses
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