The current ways of life will soon depart from earth,
New culture, new modes of life will now take their birth.
The beauty will adore itself in a new style,
The coiling locks and curling hair will now fall in dearth.
The women will discard the robes that confine and bind,
No longer the beauteous main behind the veil shall lurk.
The wind that blows indicates the birth of seasons new,
New flowers will bloom on earth, nightingales forget their mirth.
Imitators of Western music will reign supreme,
Their songs will be out of tune, a cacophonous burst.
Past glories will fine a mention nowhere on earth,
Glorious tales of name and fame inside the books will rust.
But why are you perturbed, Akbar, about the changing times?
You and I will cease to be, and mingle with the dust.
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