I wear no amour, I carry no sword, <br />as I make my way down Andalusia <br />through centuries of tears. <br /> <br />Nowhere to camp beneath the sky. <br />The magic and mystery of a journey <br />lasting eight hundred years. <br /> <br />I may, who knows, flower some day <br />at daybreak. Now I trek through a dark <br />where thorns and weeds prevail. <br /> <br />[Translated by Muhammad Salim-ur-rahman]<br /><br />Muhammad Izhar ul Haq<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cordova/
