THE AGE OF INFANCY
By Allama Iqbāl
The earth and sky remained unknown to me
The expanse of my mother's bosom was my only world
Her every movement communicated life's pleasures to me
Yet my own voice conveyed only meaningless words
During infancy's pain, if someone made me cry
The clank of the door chain would comfort me
Oh! How I stared at the moon those long, lonely hours,
Regarding its silent journey through broken clouds
I would ask repeatedly about its mountains and its plains
Only to be surprised by some prudent lie
My eye was devoted to seeing, my lips to speech
My heart was inquisitiveness personified
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