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Allama Muhammad Iqbal




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~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
2:Bachaey Ki Duaa
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
4:Ahead Of The Stars
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
5:The Age Of Infancy
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
6:Madness Of Love Is No More
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
7:O wave! Plunge headlong into the dark seas, And change thyself with many a twist and turn; Thou wast not born for tile solace of the shore; Arise, untamed, and find a path for thyself.

~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal, O wave! Plunge headlong into the dark seas (from Baal-i-Jibreel)
Whatever comes out of the heart is effective
It has no wings but has the power of flight
It has holy origins, it aims at elegance
It rises from dust, but has access to the celestial world
My love was seditious, rebellious and clever
My fearless wailing rent through the sky
On hearing it the sun said, 'Somewhere there is somebody! '
The planets said, 'At the 'Arsh-i-Bar
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
9:The Tomb-Stone Of Saiyyid
O you whose life is confined in the material world
O you whose soul is imprisoned in the cage
Look at the freedom of this garden's warblers
Look at the prosperity of those once desolate
This is the congregation with which I was concerned
This is the reward of patience and perseverance
My tomb-stone is ardently desirous of speech, look!
At this tomb-stone's inscription with insight look!
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
10:Bright are Thy tresses, brighten them even more, And ravish my eyes, ravish my mind, ravish my heart and soul. That love should be concealed, and beauty should be veiled! Reveal Thyself to me, O Lord, or reveal me to myself. Thou art the eternal ocean; I am a rivulet., Make me a part of Thee, O Lord, or make me fathomless. If I possess a pearl within, give it a starry lustre, But if I am a piece of brick, give it a diamond's sheen. If of spring I cannot sing as a bird of paradise, Make this half-enrapturcd soul a skylark of Thy spring.

~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal, Bright are Thy tresses, brighten them even more (from Baal-i-Jibreel)
11:I Desire
I want to have the extremes of your Love,
See, how silly am I, wishing for unachievable.
I don't care if you maltreat me or promise to unveil your beauty,
I just want something unbearable to test my fortitude
Let the God fearing people be dwelling in the paradise,
For, instead I want to be face to face with you.
(I don't want to go to paradise but want to observe the Divine Beauty)
O fellows, I am here for a few moments, as a gust,
Like morning star I will fade and vanish in a few moments.
I disclosed the secret in public,
I need to be punished for being so rude.
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
12:The Withered Rose
O withered rose! How can I still call you a rose?
How can I call you the longing of nightingale's heart?
Once the zephyr's movement was your rocking cradle
In the garden's expanse joyous rose was your name
The morning breeze acknowledged your benevolence
The garden was like perfumer's tray by your presence
My weeping eye sheds dew on you
My desolate heart is concealed in your sorrow
You are a tiny picture of my destruction
You are the interpretation of my life's dream
Like a flute to my reed-brake I narrate my story
Listen O rose! I complain about separations!
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
13:Age Of Infancy
The earth and sky were unknown worlds to me
Only the expanse of mother's bosom was a world to me
Every movement was a symbol of life's pleasure to me
My own speech was like a meaningless word to me
During infancy's pain if somebody made me cry
The noise of the door chain would comfort me
Oh! How I stared at the moon for long hours
Staring at its silent journey among broken clouds
I would ask repeatedly about its mountains and plains
And how surprised would I be at that prudent lie
My eye was devoted to seeing, my lip was prone to speak
My heart was no less than inquisitiveness personified
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
Perched on the branch of a tree
Was a nightingale sad and lonely
'The night has drawn near', He was thinking
'I passed the day in flying around and feeding
How can I reach up to the nest
Darkness has enveloped everything'?
Hearing the nightingale wailing thus
A glow-worm lurking nearby spoke thus
'With my heart and soul ready to help I am
Though only an insignificant insect I am
Never mind if the night is dark
I shall shed light if the way is dark
God has bestowed a torch on me
He has given a shining lamp to me
The good in the world only those are
Ready to be useful to others who are
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
15:author class:Allama Muhammad Iqbal
O Cup-bearer! Give me again that wine of love for Thee; Let me gain the place my soul desires. My lyrical vein was all but dried up, still The sheik decrees that, too, should be choked to death. No trail now blazes in new fields of thought, But blind slaves of sufies and mullahs survive. Who snatched away the piercing sword of love? Knowledge is left with an empty sheath alone. With a luminous soul the power of song is life; With a darkened soul that power is eternal death. A full moon glistens in Thy brimful cup; Deprive me not of its silver beams at night.

~ Cup-bearer! Give me again that wine of love for Thee (from Baal-i-Jibreel)
16:Said The Coal To A Diamond
My stuff is so vile, I am less than dust
while your gleam rends the mirror's heart.
My darkness lights the chafing-dish
before I am incinerated. A miner's boot
tramples my head, covering me with ashes.
Do you know my life's gist?
A condensed sliver of smoke, transformed
into a single spark, in feature and nature
starlike, your every facet a splendor,
light of the king's eye, the dagger's jewel.
Friend, be wise, the diamond replied, assume
a bezel's dignity! Loam strives to harden
to fill my bosom with radiance. Burn
because you are soft. Banish fear and grief.
Be hard as stone, be a diamond.
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
17:Mu'Tamid's Lament In Prison
In my breast,
A wail of grief,
Without any spark or flash,
Alone survives,
Passionless, ineffectual.
A free man is in prison today,
Without a spear or a sword;
Regret overwhelms me
And also my strategy.
My heart
Is drawn by instinct to chains.
Perhaps my sword was of the same steel.
Once I had a two-edged swordIt turned into the chains that shackle me now.
How whimsical and indifferent
Is the Author of fates.
[Translated by Mustansir Mir]
Note: Mu‘tamid was the king of Seville and an
Arabic poet. He was defeated and
imprisoned by a ruler of Spain. Mu‘tamid's
poems have been translated into English
and published in the Wisdom of the East
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
18:The Crescent
The sun's boat is broken and drowned in the Nile
But a piece is floating about on the water of the Nile
The twilight's pure blood drips into the sky's basin
Has the lancet of Nature drawn the sun's blood?
Has the sky stolen the ear ring of the evening's bride?
Or has the fragile cord in the Nile's waters strolling?
Your caravan is afoot without help of bell's call
The human ear cannot hear your foot-steps' sound
You show the spectacle of rise and fall to the eyes
Where is your home? To which country are you going?
O star-like planet take me with yourself
The prick of Longing's thorn keeps me restless
I am seeking light, I am weary in this habitation
I am the restless child in the existence's school…
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
19:The Candle And The Moth
O Candle! Why does the moth love you?
Why is this restless soul devoted to you?
Your charm keeps it restless like mercury
Did you teach it the etiquette of Love?
It circumambulates the site of your manifestation
Is it inspired with the fire of your lightning?
Do the woes of death give it the peace of life?
Does your flame possess the quality of eternal life?
If you do not brighten this sorrowful world
This burning heart's tree of Longing may not green up
Falling before you is the prayer of this little heart
The taste for impassioned Love knows this little heart
It has some zeal of the Primeval Beauty's Lover
You are a small ñër, it is a small Kalam
The moth and the taste for the Sight of the Light!
This small insect and the Longing for the Light!
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
20:The secret divine my ecstasy has taught I may convey if I have Gabriel's breath. What can these stars tell me of my fate? They are lost themselves in the boundless firmament. The total absorption of thought and vision is life, Scattered thought is selfhood's total death. Pleasures of selfhood are a blessing of God, Who makes me lose my awareness of myself. With a pure heart, a noble aim, a poignant soul. I care not for Solomon's wealth or Plato's thought. The Prophet's 'Mairaj' has taught me that heaven Lies within the bounds of human reach. This universe, perhaps, is yet incomplete, For I hear repeated sounds of "Be, And It Was." Thy mind is ruled by the magic of the West, Thy cure lies in the Fire of Rumi's faith. It is he who has given my eyes a blissful vision, It is he who has blessed my soul with light.

~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal, The secret divine my ecstasy has taught (from Baal-i-Jibreel)
Spain! You are the trustee of the Muslim
In my eyes you are sanctified like the Harem.
Prints of prostration lie hidden in your dust,
Silent calls to prayers in your morning air.
In your hills and vales were the tents of those,
The tips of whose lances were bright like the
Is more henna needed by your pretties?
My lifeblood can give them some colour!
How can a Muslim be put down by the straw
and grass,
Even if his flame has lost its heat and fire!
My eyes watched Granada as well,
But the traveller's content neither in journey
nor in rest:
I saw as well as showed, I spoke as well as
Neither seeing nor learning brings calm to the
The veiled secrets are becoming manifest—
Bygone the days of you cannot see Me;
Whosoever finds his self first,
Is Mahdi himself, the Guide of the Last Age.
Not: Written in Spain—on the way back.
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
22:The Painful Wail
Consumed with grief I am, I get relief in no way
O circumambient waters of the Ganges drown me
Our land foments excessive mutual enmity
What unity! Our closeness harbors separation
Enmity instead of sincerity is outrageous
Enmity among the same barn's grains is outrageous
If the brotherly breeze has not entered in a garden
No pleasure can be derived from songs in that garden
Though I exceedingly love the real closeness
I am upset by the mixing of waves and the shore
The miraculous poet is like the grain from the barn
The grain has no existence if there is no barn
How can beauty unveil itself if no one is anxious for sight
Lighting of the candle is meaningless if there is no assembly
Why does the taste for speech not change to silence
Why does this brilliance not appear out from my mirror
Alas! My tongue poured its speech down
When war's fire had burnt the garden down
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
23:The Sun
O Sun! The world's essence and motivator you are
The organizer of the book of the world you are
The splendor of existence has been created by you
The verdure of the garden of existence depends on you
The spectacle of elements is maintained by you
The exigency of life in all is maintained by you
Your appearance confers stability on everything
Your illumination and concord is completion of life
You are the sun which establishes light in the world
Which establishes heart, intellect, essence and wisdom
O Sun! Bestow on us the light of wisdom
Bestow your luster's light on the intellect's eye
You are the decorator of necessaries of existence' assemblage
You are the Yazdan of the denizens of the high and the low
Your excellence is reflected from every living thing
The mountain range also shows your elegance
You are the sustainer of the life of all
You are the king of the light's children
There is no beginning and no end of yours
Free of limits of time is the light of yours
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
24:The Bird's Complaint
I am constantly reminded of the bygone times
Those garden's springs, those chorus of chimes
Gone are the freedoms of our own nests
Where we could come and go at our own pleasure
My heart aches the moment I think
Of the buds' smile at the dew's tears
That beautiful figure, that Kamini's form
Which source of happiness in my nest did form
I do not hear those lovely sounds in my cage now
May it happen that my freedom be in my own hands now!
How unfortunate I am, tantalized for my abode I am
My companions are in the home-land, in the prison I am
Spring has arrived, the flower buds are laughing
On my misfortune in this dark house I am wailing
God, To whom should I relate my tale of woe?
I fear lest I die in this cage with this woe (grief) !
Since separation from the garden the condition of my heart is such
My heart is waxing the grief, my grief is waxing the heart
O Listeners, considering this music do not be happy
This call is the wailing of my wounded heart
O the one who confined me make me free
A silent prisoner I am, earn my blessings free
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
25:The Intellect And The Heart
One day Intellect said to the heart
'A guide to the misguided ones I am
Being on the earth I reach up to the sky
Look, how deep in comprehension I am
Guidance on earth is my sole occupation
Like the auspicious Khidr 1 in character I am
Interpreter of the book of life I am
The Manifestation of God's Glory I am
You are only a dropp of blood, but
The invaluable ruby's envy I am'
Hearing this the heart said, 'All this is true
But look at me as well, what I am
You understand the secrets of life
But seeing them with my own eyes I am
Concerned with the manifest order you are
And acquainted with the inward I am
Learning is from you, but Divine Knowledge is from me
You only seek Divinity, but showing Divinity I am
Restlessness is the end of Knowledge 2
But the remedy for that malady I am
You are the candle of the assembly of Truth
The lamp of the Divine Beauty's assemblage I am
You are related to time and space
The bird recognizing the Sidrah 3 I am
Look at the grandeur of my station
The throne of the God of Majesty I am
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
26:A Mountain And A Squirrel
A mountain was saying this to a squirrel
'Commit suicide if you have self-respect
You are insignificant, still so arrogant, how strange!
You are neither wise, nor intelligent! not even shrewd!
It is strange when the insignificant pose as important!
When the stupid ones like you pose as intelligent!
You are no match in comparison with my splendor
Even the earth is low compared with my splendor
The grandeur of mine does not fall to your lot
The poor animal cannot equal the great mountain! '
On hearing this the squirrel said, 'Hold your tongue!
These are immature thoughts, expel them from your heart!
I do not care if I am not large like you!
You are not a pretty little thing like me
Everything shows the Omni-potence of God
Some large, some small, is the wisdom of God
He has created you large in the world
And He has taught me climbing large trees
You are unable to walk a single step
Only large size! What other greatness have you?
If you are large show me some of the skills I have
Show me how you break this beetle nut as I can
Nothing is useless in this world
Nothing is bad in God's creation
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
27:First Date Tree Saeeded By Abdul Rahman The Firs
You are the apple of my eye,
My heart's delight:
I am remote from my valley,
To me you are the Burning Bush of Sinai!
You are a houri of the Arabian Desert,
Nursed by the Western breeze.
I feel homesick in exile,
You feel homesick in exile:
Prosper in this strange land!
May the morning dew quench your thirst!
The world presents a strange sight:
The vision's mantle is torn apart—
May valour struggle with the waves if it must,
The other side of the river is not to be seen!
Life owes itself to the heat of one's soul:
Flame does not rise from dust.
The Syrian evening's fallen star
Shined brighter in the exile's dawn.
There are no frontiers for the Man of Faith,
He is at home everywhere.
[Translated by the Editors]
That blood of pristine vigour is no more;
That yearning heart's power is no more;
Prayer, fasting, hajj, sacrifice survive,
But in thee nature's old dower is no more.
[Translated by Naim Siddiqui]
Not: These verses from Abdul Rahman the First
are quoted in Tarikh al Muqqari. The
following Urdu poem is a liberal
translation (the tree mentioned here was
planted in Madinatut Zahra)
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
28:The Colorful Rose
You are not troubled with solving enigmas
O, beautiful Rose! nor do you have sublime feelings in your heart
Though you ornament the assembly, still you flower apart
In life's assembly I am not permitted such comforts
In my garden I am the complete orchestra of longing
While your life is devoid of love's passionate warmth
To pluck you from the branch is not my custom
I am not blinded by mere appearances
O, colorful rose this hand is not your tormentor
I am no callous flower picker!
I am no intern to analyze you with scientific eyes
Like a lover, I see you with nightingales' eyes
Despite your innumerable tongues, you have chosen silence
What secrets, O Rose, lie concealed in your bosom?
Like me you're a leaf from the garden of Ñër
Far from the garden I am, far from the garden we both are
You are content, but I am a scattered fragrance
Pierced by the sword of love in my quest
This turmoil within me might be a means of fulfillment
This torment, a source of illumination
My frailty might be the beginning of strength
My envy might mirror the cup of divination
My constant vigil is a world-illuminating candle
And teaches this steed, the human intellect, to gallop
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
29:A Mother's Dream
As I slept one night I saw this dream
Which further increased my vexation
I dreamt I was going somewhere on the way
Dark it was and impossible to find the way
Trembling all over with fear I was
Difficult to take even a step with fear was
With some courage as I forward moved
I saw some boys as lined in nice array
Dressed in emerald-like raiment they were
Carrying lighted lamps in their hands they were
They were going quietly behind each other
No one knew where they were to go
Involved in this thought was I
When in this troupe my son saw I
He was walking at the back, and was not walking fast
The lamp he had in his hand was not lighted
Recognizing him I said 'O My dear!
Where have you come leaving me there?
Restless due to separation I am
Weeping every day for ever I am
You did not care even a little for me
What loyalty you showed, you left me'!
As the child saw the distress in me
He replied thus, turning around to me
'The separation from me makes you cry
Not least little good does this to me'
He remained quiet for a while after talking
Showing me the lamp then he started talking
'Do you understand what happened to this?
Your tears have extinguished this'!
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
30:The Cloud On The Mountain
Elevation bestows the sky's nearness to my abode
I am the mountain's cloud, my skirt sprinkles roses
Now the wilderness, now the rose garden is my abode
City and wilderness are mine, ocean is mine, forest is mine
If I want to return to some valley for the night
The mountain's verdure is my carpet of velvet
Nature has taught me to be a pearl spreader
To chant the camel song for the camel of the Beloved of Mercy
To be the comforter of the dispirited farmer's heart
To be the elegance of the assembly of the garden's trees
I spread out over the face of the earth like the locks
I get arranged and adorned by the breeze's
I tantalize the expecting eye from a distance
As I pass silently over some habitation
As I approach strolling towards a brook's bank
I endow the brook with ear rings of whirlpools
I am the hope of the freshly grown field's verdure
I am the ocean's offspring, I am nourished by the sun
I gave ocean's tumult to the mountain spring
I charmed the birds into thrilling chants
I pronounced 'Rise' standing by the verdure's head
I conferred the taste for smile to the rose-bud
By my benevolence farmers' huts on the mountain side
Are converted into bed chambers of the opulent.
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
31:A Prayer
My invocations are sincere and true,
They form my ablutions and prayers due.
One glance of guide such joy and warmth can
On marge of stream can bloom the tulip plant.
One has no comrade on Love's journey long
Save fervent zeal, and passion great and
O God, at gates of rich I do not bow,
You are my dwelling place and nesting
Your Love in my breast burns like Doomsday
The cry, He is God, on my lips is born.
Your Love, makes me God, fret with pain and
You are the only quest and aim of mine.
Without You town appears devoid of life,
When present, same town appears astir with
For wine of gnosis I request and ask,
To get some dregs I break the cup and glass.
The mystics' gourds and commons' pitchers
For liquor of your Grace and Bounty great.
Against Your godhead I have a genuine
For You the Spaceless, while for me restraint.
Both verse and wisdom indicate the way
Which longing face to face can not convey.
[Translated by Syed Akbar Ali Shah]
The mystic's soul is like the morning breeze:
It freshens and renews life's inner meaning;
An illumined soul can be a shepherd's, who
Could hear the Voice of God at God's
[Translated by Naim Siddiqui]
Not: This poem has been written in the Mosque of Cordoba.
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
32:Pathos Of Love
O Pathos of Love! You are a glossy pearl
Beware, you should not appear among strangers
The theatre of your display is concealed under the veil
The modern audience' eye accepts only the visible display
New breeze has arrived in the Existence' garden
O Pathos of Love! Now there is no pleasure in display
Beware! You should not be striving for ostentation!
You should not be obligated to the nightingale's lament!
The tulip's wine-cup should be devoid of wine
The dew's tear should be a mere dropp of water
Your secret should be hidden in the bosom somewhere
Your heart-melting tear should not be your betrayer
The flowery-styled poet's tongue should not be talking
Separation's complaint should not be concealed in flute's music
This age is a critic, go and somewhere conceal yourself
In the heart in which you are residing conceal yourself
The learning's surprise is neglecting you, beware!
Your immature eye is not the seeker of Truth, beware
Let the elegant thought remain in search of Truth
Let your wisdom-loving eye remain in astonishment
This is not the garden whose spring you may be
This is not the audience worthy of your appearance
This audience is the lover of the material sights
The purpose of your sight is the closet of secrecy
Every heart is intoxicated with the wine of thinking
Something different is the Tur of the Kalims of this age
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
33:Mirza Ghalib
Through you the secret was revealed to the human intellect
That innumerable enigmas are solved by human intellect
You were the complete soul, literary assembly was your body
You adorned as well as remained veiled from the assembly
Your eye is longing to witness that veiled Beauty
Which is veiled in everything as the pathos of life
The assemblage of existence is rich with your harp
As mountain's silence by the brook's melodious harp
The garden of your imagination bestows glory on the universe
From the field of your thought worlds grow like meadows
Life is concealed in the humor of your verse
Picture's lips move with your command of language
Speech is very proud of the elegance of your miraculous lips
Thurayyah is astonished at your style's elegance
Beloved of literature itself loves your style
Delhi's bud is mocking at the rose of Shiraz
Ah! You are resting in the midst of Delhi's ruins
Your counterpart is resting in the Weimar's garden
Matching you in literary elegance is not possible
Till maturity of thought and imagination are combined
Ah! What has befallen the land of India!
Ah! The inspirer of the super-critical eye!
The lock of Urdu's hair still craves for combing
This candle still craves for moth's heart-felt pathos
O Jahanabad! O cradle of learning and art
Your entire super-structure is a silent lament
The sun and the moon are asleep in every speck of your dust
Though innumerable other gems are also hidden in your dust
Does another world-famous person like him also lie buried in you?
Does another gem like him also lie concealed in you?
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
34:Selfhood can demolish the magic of this world; But our belief in The One is not comprehended by all. Have a seer's eye, and light will dawn on thee; As a river and its waves cannot remain apart. The light of God and knowledge are not in rivalry, But so the pulpit believes, afraid of Hallaj's rope. Contentment is the shield for the pure and the noble A shield in slavery, and a shield in power. In the East the soul looks in vain for light; In the West the light is a faded cloud of dust. The fakirs who could shatter the power and pelf of kings No longer tread this earth, in climes far or near. The spirit of this age is brimful with negations, And drained to the last drop is the power of faith. Muted is Europe's lament on its crumbling pageant, Muted by the delirious beats, the clangour of its music. A sleepy ripple awaits, to swell into a wave A wave that will swallow up monsters of the sea. What is slavery but a loss of the sense of beauty? What the free call beautiful, is beautiful indeed. The present belongs to him who explores, in their depths, The fathomless seas of time, to find the future's pearl. The alchemist of the West has turned stone into glass But my alchemy has transmuted glass into flint Pharaohs of today have stalked me in vain; But I fear not; I am blessed with Moses' wand. The flame that can set afire a dark, sunless wood, Will not be throttled by a straw afloat in the wind. Love is self-awareness; love is self-knowledge; Love cares not for the palaces and the power of kings. I will not wonder if I reach even the moon and the stars, For I have hitched my wagon to the star of all stars. First among the wise, last of the Prophets, Who gave a speck of dust the brightness of the Mount. He is the first and last in the eyes of love; He is the Word of God. He is the Word of God.

~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal, Selfhood can demolish the magic of this world (from Baal-i-Jibreel)
35:The One I Was Searching For On The Earth And In
The one I was searching for on the earth and in heaven
Appeared residing in the recesses of my own heart
When the reality of the self became evident to my eyes
The house appeared among residents of my own heart
If it were somewhat familiar with taste of rubbing foreheads
The stone of Ka’ba’s threshold would have joined the foreheads
O Majnun! Have you ever glanced at yourself
That like Layla you are also sitting in the litter
The months of the union continue flying like moments
But the moments of separation linger for months!
O seaman, how will you protect me from being drowned
As those destined to drowning get drowned in the boats also
The one who concealed His Beauty from Kalim Allah
The same Beloved is manifest among beloveds
The breath of Lovers can light up the extinguished candle
O God! What is kept concealed in the breast of the Lovers?
Serve the fakirs if you have the longing for Love
This pearl is not available in the treasures of kings
Do not ask of these Devotees, if you have faith, you should look at them
They have the illuminated palm up their sleeves
The insightful eye for whose spectacle is tantalized
That elegance of congregation is in these very recluses
Burn the produce of your heart with some such spark
That the Last Day’s sun may also be among your gleaners
For Love search for some heart which would become mortified
This is the wine which is not kept in delicate wine glasses
The Beauty itself becomes the Lover of whose Beauty
O Heart! Does someone among the beautiful has that beauty?
Someone became highly excited at your grace of Ma’arafna
Your rank remained among the most elegant of all the Lovers
Manifest Thyself and show them Thy Beauty some time
Talks have continued among the sagacious since long time
Silent, O Heart! Crying in the full assembly is not good
Decorum is the most important etiquette among the ways of Love
It is not possible for me to deem my critics bad
Because Iqbal, I am myself among my critics
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
36:A Longing
O Lord! I have become weary of human assemblages!
When the heart is sad no pleasure in assemblages can be
I seek escape from tumult, my heart desires
The silence which speech may ardently love!
I vehemently desire silence, I strongly long that
A small hut in the mountain's side may there be
Freed from worry I may live in retirement
Freed from the cares of the world I may be
Birds chirping may give the pleasure of the lyre
In the spring's noise may the orchestra's melody be
The flower bud bursting may give God's message to me
Showing the whole world 1 to me this small wine-cup may be
My arm may be my pillow, and the green grass my bed be
Putting the congregation to shame my solitude's quality be
The nightingale be so familiar with my face that
Her little heart harboring no fear from me may be
Avenues of green trees standing on both sides be
The spring's clear water providing a beautiful picture be
The view of the mountain range may be so beautiful
To see it the waves of water again and again rising be
The verdure may be asleep in the lap of the earth
Water running through the bushes may glistening be
Again and again the flowered boughs touching the water be
As if some beauty looking at itself in mirror be
When the sun apply myrtle to the evening's bride
The tunic of every flower may pinkish golden be
When night's travellers falter behind with fatigue
Their only hope my broken earthenware lamp may be
May the lightning lead them to my hut
When clouds hovering over the whole sky be.
The early dawn's cuckoo, that morning's mu'adhdhin2
May my confidante he be, and may his confidante I be
May I not be obligated to the temple or to the mosque
May the hut's hole alone herald of morning's arrival be
When the dew may come to perform the flowers' ablution
May wailing my supplication, weeping my ablution be
In this silence may my heart's wailing rise so high
That for stars' caravan the clarion's call my wailing be
May every compassionate heart weeping with me be
Perhaps it may awaken those who may unconscious be
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
37:A Spider And A Fly
One day a spider said to a fly
'Though you pass this way daily
My hut has never been honored by you
By making a chance visit inside by you
Though depriving strangers of a visit does not matter
Evading the near and dear ones does not look good
My house will be honored by a visit by you
A ladder is before you if you decide to step in
Hearing this the fly said to the spider,
'Sire, you should entice some simpleton thus
This fly would never be pulled into your net
Whoever climbed your net could never step down'
The spider said, 'How strange, you consider me a cheat
I have never seen a simpleton like you in the world
I only wanted to entertain you
I had no personal gain in view
You have come flying from some unknown distant place
Resting for a while in my house would not harm you
Many things in this house are worth your seeing
Though apparently a humble hut you are seeing
Dainty drapes are hanging from the doors
And I have decorated the walls with mirrors
Beddings are available for guests' comforts
Not to everyone's lot do fall these comforts'.
The fly said, 'All this may very well be
But do not expect me to enter your house
'May God protect me from these soft beds
Once asleep in them getting up again is impossible'
The spider spoke to itself on hearing this talk
'How to trap it? This wretched fellow is clever
Many desires are fulfilled with flattery in the world
All in the world are enslaved with flattery'
Thinking this the spider spoke to the fly thus!
'Madam, God has bestowed great honors on you!
Everyone loves your beautiful face
Even if someone sees you for the first time
Your eyes look like clusters of glittering diamonds
God has adorned your beautiful head with a plume
This beauty, this dress, this elegance, this neatness!
And all this is very much enhanced by singing in flight'.
The fly was touched by this flattery
And spoke, 'I do not fear you any more
I hate the habit of declining requests
Disappointing somebody is bad indeed'
Saying this it flew from its place
When it got close the spider snapped it
The spider had been starving for many days
The fly provided a good leisurely meal
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
38:The Morning Sun
Far from the ignoble strife of Man's tavern you are
The wine-cup adorning the sky's assemblage you are
The jewel which should be the pearl of the morning's bride's ear you are
The ornament which would be the pride of horizon's forehead you are
The blot of night's ink from time's page has been removed!
The star from sky like a spurious picture has been removed!
When from the roof of the sky your beauty appears
Effect of sleep's wine suddenly from eyes disappears
Perception's expanse gets filled with light
Though opens only the material eye your light
The spectacle which the eyes seek is desired
The effulgence which would open the insight is desired
The desires for freedom were not fulfilled in this life
We remained imprisoned in chains of dependence all life
The high and the low are alike for your eye
I too have longing for such a discerning eye
May my eye shedding tears in sympathy for others' woes be!
May my heart free from the prejudice of nation and customs be!
May my tongue be not bound with discrimination of color
May mankind be my nation, the whole world my country be
May secret of Nature's organization clear to my insight be
May smoke of my imagination's candle rising to the sky be
May search for secrets of opposites not make me restless!
May the Love-creating Beauty in everything appear to me!
If the rose petals get damaged by the breeze
May its pain dropping from my eye as a tear be
May the heart contain that little spark of Love's fire
The light of which may contain the secret of the Truth
May my heart not mine but the Beloved's mirror be!
May no thought in my mind except human sympathy be!
If you cannot endure the hardships of the tumultuous world
O the Great Luminary that is not the mark of greatness!
As you are not aware of your world-decorating beauty
You cannot be equal to a speck of dust at the Man's door!
The light of Man eager for the Spectacle ever remained
And you obligated to the tomorrow's morning ever remained
Longing for the Light of the Truth is only in our hearts
Abode of Lailah of desire for search is only in this litter
Opening of the difficult knot, Oh what a pleasure it is!
The pleasure of universal gain in our endless effort is!
Your bosom is unacquainted with the pain of investigation
You are not familiar with searching of the secrets of Nature
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
39:The Himalayas
O Himalah! O rampart of the realm of India!
Bowing down, the sky kisses your forehead
Your condition does not show any signs of old age
You are young in the midst of day and night's alternation
The Kalâm of ñër Sân« witnessed but one Effulgence
For the discerning eye you are an embodiment of Effulgence
To the outward eye you are a mere mountain range
In reality you are our sentinel, you are India's rampart
You are the diwan whose opening verse is the sky
You lead Man to the solitudes of his heart's retreat
Snow has endowed you with the turban of honour
Which scoffs at the crown of the world-illuminating sun
Antiquity is but a moment of your bygone age
Dark clouds are encamped in your valleys
Your peaks are matching with the pleiades in elegance
Though you are standing on earth your abode is sky's expanse
The stream in your flank is a fast flowing mirror
For which the breeze is working like a kerchief
The mountain top's lightning has given a whip
In the hands of cloud for the ambling horse
O Himalah! Are you like a theater stage
Which nature's hand has made for its elements?
Ah! How the cloud is swaying in excessive joy
The cloud like an unchained elephant is speeding
Gentle movement of the morning zephyr is acting like a cradle
Every flower bud is swinging with intoxication of existence
The flower bud's silence with the petal's tongue is saying
'I have never experienced the jerk of the florist's hand
Silence itself is relating the tale of mine
The corner of nature's solitude is the abode of mine'
The brook is melodiously descending from the high land
Putting the waves of Kawthar and Tasnâm to embarrassment
As if showing the mirror to Nature's beauty
Now evading now rowing against the rock in its way
Play in passing this orchestra of beautiful music
O wayfarer! The heart comprehends your music
When the night's Lailah unfurls her long hair
The sound of water-falls allures the heart
That silence of the night whose beauty surpasses speech
That state of silent meditation overshadowing the trees
That dusk's beauty which shivers along the mountain range
Very beautiful looks this rouge on your cheeks
O Himalah! Do relate to us some stories of the time
When your valleys became abode of Man's ancestors
Relate something of the life without sophistication
Which had not been stained by the rouge of sophistication
O Imagination! Bring back that period
O Vicissitudes of Time speed backwards
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
40:The Interrogatio
The bright sun is hidden, the night shows its face
The night's hair is spread on shoulders of the earth
This black dress is preparation for some one's mourning
Perhaps the Nature's assemblage for the sun is mourning
The sky is casting a spell over the talking lip
The night's magician is watching the awakened eye
The wind current is submerged in the river of silence
However, the tolling bell's sound comes from the distance
Heart which in love's turmoil is evading the world
Has dragged me here far from the maddening crowd
I am the spectator of the spectacle of disappointments
I am the associate of those sleeping in solitude's corner
O My restlessness! Wait and let me rest awhile
And let me shed a few tears at this habitation
O those steeped in a swoon, 'Where are you?
Tell me something of the land where you live
Is that world also one of prevarication?
Is that world also one of denizens' struggle?
Is Man engulfed by sorrow in that land also?
Is Man's heart suppressed and helpless in that land also?
Does the moth burn itself in candle's love in that land also?
Does the tale of flower and nightingale exist in that garden also?
In this world a single hemistich perturbs the heart
Does there also the warmth of verse soften the heart?
This world's relations and alliances life's woes are
Are similar sharp thorns present in that garden also?
The daily bread and a million calamities this world has
Does the soul freedom from anxieties in that world has?
Are the thunder, the farmer, the harvest there also?
Are the caravan and the robber's fear there also?
Do birds collect bits of straw for nests there also?
Is the search for bricks and clay for house there also?
Are the humans unaware of their reality there also? 1
Are they after nations' and customs' discrimination there also
Does garden not cry at the nightingale's wail there also?
Like this world is there no sympathy in that world also?
Does the Paradise a garden or a restful mansion constitute?
Or does the Eternal Beauty's Unveiled Face it constitute? 2
Does hell a method of burning away sins constitute?
Or it in flames of fire a way of discipline constitute?
Has walking given way to speedy flying in that world?
What is the secret of what is called death by denizens of this world?
Life eases the heart's restlessness in this world
Is human knowledge also restricted in that world?
Does the separated heart get satisfaction by sight there also?
Are 'Lan Tar
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
41:The Candle
O Candle! I am also an afflicted person in the world assembly
Constant complaint is my lot in the manner of the rue
Love gave the warmth of internal pathos to you
It made me the florist selling blood-mixed tears
Whether you be the candle of a celebrating assembly or one at the grave
In every condition associated with the tears of sorrow you remain
Your eye views all with equity like the Secret's Lovers
My eye is the pride of the tumult of discrimination
Your illumination is alike in the Ka'bah and the temple
I am entangled in the temple and the Haram's discrimination
Your black smoke contains the sigh's elegance
Is some heart hidden in the place of your manifestation?
You burn with pathos due to distance from Tajalli's Light
Your pathos the callous ones consider your light
Though you are burning you are unaware of it all
You see but do not encompass the internal pathos
I quiver like mercury with the excitement of vexation
As well I am aware of vexations of the restless heart
This was also the elegance of some Beloved
Which gave me perception of my own pathos
This cognition of mine keeps me restless
Innumerable fire temples are asleep in this spark
Discrimination between high and low is created by this alone!
Fragrance in flower, ecstasy in wine is created by this alone!
Garden, nightingale, flower, fragrance this Cognition is
Root of the struggle of ‘I and you' this Cognition is
At creation's dawn as Beauty became the abode of Love
The sound of "Kun" taught warmth to the spirit of Love
The command came Beauty of Kun's garden to witness
With one eye a thousand dreadful dreams to witness
Do not ask me of the nature of the veil of being
The eve of separation was the dawn of my being
Gone are the days when unaware of imprisonment I was
That my abode the adornment of the tree of Tur was
I am a prisoner but consider the cage to be a garden
This exile's hovel of sorrow I consider the homeland
Memories of the homeland a needless melancholy became
Now the desire for sight, now Longing for search became
O Candle! Look at the excessive illusion of thought
Look at the end of the one worshipped by celestial denizens
Theme of separation I am, the exalted one I am
Design of the Will of the Universe's Lord I am
He desired my display as He designed me
When at the head of Existence' Divan He wrote me
The pearl likes living in a handful of dust
Style may be dull the subject is excellent
Not seeing it rightly is the fault of shortsighted perception
The universe is the show of effulgence of taste for Cognizance
This network of time and space is the scaling ladder of the Universe
It is the necklace of the neck of Eternal BeautyI
have lost the way, Longing for the goal I am
O Candle! Captive of perception's illusion I am
I am the hunter as well as the circle of tyranny's net!
I am the Haram's roof as well as the bird on Haram's roofAm I the Beauty or
head to foot the melting love am I?
It is not clear whether the beloved or the Lover am I?
am afraid the old secret may come up to my lips again
Lest story of suffering on the Cross may come up again.
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,
42:Look! What wonders the spring has wrought! The river bank is a paradise! Rose-embowered glades, Blossoming jasmine and hyacinth, And violets, the envy of the skies!. Rainbow colours transformed Into a chorus of rapturous sounds, And the harmony of flowers The hillside is carnation-red; In the languid haze, the air Seems drunk with the beauty of life! The brook, on the heights of the hill, Dances to its own music. The world is dizzy in a pageant of colour! My rosy-cheeked Cup-bearer! The voice of spring is the voice of life! But the spring lasts not for ever; So bring me the cup that tears all veils -- The wine that brightens life -- The wine that intoxicates the world -- The wine in which flows The music of everlasting life, The wine that reveals eternity's secret. Unveil the secrets, O Saqi. Look! The world has changed apace! New are the songs, and new is the music; The West's magic has dissolved; The West's magicians are bewildered; Old politics has lost its game; The world is tired of kings; Gone are the days of the rich; Gone is the jugglery of old; Awake is China's sleeping giant; The Himalayas' torrents are unleashed; Sinai is riven; Moses awaits the light divine. The Muslim says that God is One But his heart is Still a heathen: Culture, sufism, rites and rthetoric, All adore non- Arab idols; The truth was lost in trifles, And the nation was lost in conventions. The speaker's rhetoric is enchanting, But is devoid of passion; It is clothed in logic neat, But lost in a maze of words; The sufi, unique in the love of truth, Unique in the love of God, Was lost in un-Islamic thought; Was lost in the hierarchic quest; The fire of love is extinguished, And a Muslim is a heap of ashes, O Saqi! Give me the old wine again! Let the potent cup go round! Let me soar on the wings of love; Make my dust bright-pinioned; Make wisdom free; And make the young guide the old; Thou it is that nourishest. this nation; Thou it is that canst sustain it; Urge them to move, to stir; Give them Ali's heart; give them Siddiq's passion; Let the same old love pierce their hearts; Awaken in them a burning zeal; Let the stars throw down their spears, And let the earth's dwellers tremble Give the young a passion that consumes; Give them my vision, my love of God; Free my boat from the whirlpool's grip, And make it move forward-, Reveal to me the secrets of life, For thou knowest them all; The treasures of a fakir like me Are suffused, unsleeping eyes, And secret yearnings of the heart-, My anguished sighs at night, My solitude in the world of men, My hopes and my fears, My quest untiring, My nature an arena of thought A mirror of the world. My heart a battlefield of life, With armies of suspicion, And bastions of certitude; With these treasures I am More rich than the richest of all. Let the young join my throng, And let them find an anchor of hope. The sea of life has its ebb and flow-, In every atom's heart is the pulse of life; It manifests itself in the body, As a flame conceals a wave of smoke; Contact with the earth was harsh for it, But it liked the labour; It is in motion, and not in motion; Tired of the elements' shackles; A unity, imprisoned by plurality; But always unique, unequalled. It has made this dome of myriad glass; It has carved this pantheon. It does not repeat its craft For thou art not me, and I am not thou; It has created the world of men, And remains in solitude, Its brightness is seen in the stars, And in the lustre of pearls-, To it belong the wildernesses, The flowers and the thorns; Mountains sometimes are shaken by its might; It captures angels and nymphs; It makes the eagle pounce on a prey, And leave a blood-stained body. Every atom throbs with life; Rest is an illusion; Life's journey pauses not, For every moment is a new glory; Life, thou thinkest, is a mystery; Life is a delight in eternal flight; Life has seen many ups and downs; It loves a journey, not a goal. Movement is life's being; Movement is truth, pause is a mirage. Life's enjoyment is in perils, In facing ups and downs; In the world beyond Life stalked for death, But the impulse to procreate Peopled the world of man and beast. Flowers blossomed and dropped From this tree of life. Fools think life is ephemeral; Life renews itself for ever -- Moving fast as a flash, Moving to eternity in a breath; Time, a chain of days and nights, Is the ebb and flow of breath. This flow of breath is like a sword, Selfhood is its sharpness; Selfhood is the secret of life; It is the world's awakening, Selfhood is solitary, absorbed, An ocean enclosed in a drop; It shines in light and in darkness, Existent in, but away from, thee and me. The dawn of life behind it, eternity before, It has no frontiers before, no frontiers behind. Afloat on the river of time, Bearing the buffets of the waves, Changing the course of its quest, Shifting its glance from time to time; For it a hill is a grain of sand, Mountains are shattered by its blows; A journey is its beginning and end, And this is the secret of its being. It is the moon's beam, the spark in the flint, Colourless itself, though infused with colours, No concern has it with the calculus of space, With linear time's limits, with the finitude of life. It manifested itself in man's essence of dust, After an eternity of a strife to be born. It is in thy heart that Selfhood has an abode, As heaven has its abode in the cornea of thy eye. To one who guards his Selfhood, The living that demeans it, is poison; He accepts only a living, That keeps his self- esteem; Keep away from royal pomp, Keep thy Selfhood free; Thou shouldst bow in prayer, Not bow to a human being. This myriad-coloured world, Under the sentence of death, This world of sight and sound, I Where life means eating and drinking, Is Selfhood's initial stage; It is not thy abode, O traveller! This dust-bowl is not the source of thy fire; The world is for thee, not thou for the world. Demolish this illusion of' time and space; Selfhood is the Tiger of God, the world is its prey; The earth is its prey, the heavens are its prey; Other worlds there are, still awaiting birth, The earth-born are not the centre of all life; They all await thy assault, Thy cataclysmic thought and deed; Days and nights revolve, To reveal thy Selfhood to thee; Thou art the architect of the world. Words fail to convey the truth; Truth is the mirror, words its shade; Though the breath is a burning flame, The flame has limited bounds. 'If now I soar any farther, The vision will sear my wings.'

~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal, To the Saqi (from Baal-i-Jibreel)
43:The Mosque Of Cordoba
The succession of day and night
Is the architect of events.
The succession of day and night
Is the fountain-head of life and death.
The succession of day and night
Is a two-tone silken twine,
With which the Divine Essence
Prepares Its apparel of Attributes.
The succession of day and night
Is the reverberation of the symphony of
Through its modulations, the Infinite
The parameters of possibilities.
The succession of day and night
Is the touchstone of the universe;
Now sitting in judgement on you,
Now setting a value on me.
But what if you are found wanting.
What if I am found wanting.
Death is your ultimate destiny.
Death is my ultimate destiny.
What else is the reality of your days
and nights,
Besides a surge in the river of time,
Sans day, sans night.
Frail and evanescent, all miracles of
Transient, all temporal attainments;
Ephemeral, all worldly accomplishments.
Annihilation is the end of all
Annihilation is the end of all ends.
Extinction, the fate of everything;
Hidden or manifest, old or new.
Yet in this very scenario
Indelible is the stamp of permanence
On the deeds of the good and godly.
Deeds of the godly radiate with Love,
The essence of life,
Which death is forbidden to touch.
Fast and free flows the tide of time,
But Love itself is a tide that stems all tides.
In the chronicle of Love there are times
Other than the past, the present and the
Times for which no names have yet
been coined.
breath of Gabriel.
heart of Mustafa.
messenger of God.
Word of God.
Love is ecstasy lends luster to earthly
Love is the heady wine,
Love is the grand goblet.
Love is the commander of marching troops.
Love is a wayfarer with many a way-side
Love is the plectrum that brings
Music to the string of life.
Love is the light of life.
Love is the fire of life.
To Love, you owe your being,
O, Harem of Cordoba,
To Love, that is eternal;
Never waning, never fading.
Just the media these pigments, bricks
and stones;
This harp, these words and sounds, just
the media.
The miracle of art springs from the
lifeblood of the artist!
A droplet of the lifeblood
Transforms a piece of dead rock into a living
An impressive sound, into a song of
A refrain of rapture or a melody of mirth.
The aura you exude, illumines the
My plaint kindles the soul.
You draw the hearts to the Presence
I inspire them to bloom and blossom.
No less exalted than the Exalted Throne,
Is the throne of the heart, the human breast!
Despite the limit of azure skies,
Ordained for this handful of dust.
Celestial beings, born of light,
Do have the privilege of supplication,
But unknown to them
Are the verve and warmth of
An Indian infidel, perchance, am I;
But look at my fervour, my ardour.
‘Blessings and peace upon the Prophet,' sings
my heart.
‘Blessings and peace upon the Prophet,' echo
my lips.
My song is the song of aspiration.
My lute is the serenade of longing.
Every fibre of my being
Resonates with the refrains of Allah hoo!
Your beauty, your majesty,
Personify the graces of the man of faith.
You are beautiful and majestic.
He too is beautiful and majestic.
Your foundations are lasting,
Your columns countless,
Like the profusion of palms
In the plains of Syria.
Your arches, your terraces, shimmer with the
That once flashed in the valley of Aiman
Your soaring minaret, all aglow
In the resplendence of Gabriel's glory.
The Muslim is destined to last
As his Azan holds the key to the
Of the perennial message of Abraham
and Moses.
His world knows no boundaries,
His horizon, no frontiers.
Tigris, Danube and Nile:
Billows of his oceanic expanse.
Fabulous, have been his times!
Fascinating, the accounts of his
He it was, who bade the final adieu
To the outworn order.
A cup-bearer is he,
With the purest wine for the connoisseur;
A cavalier in the path of Love
With a sword of the finest steel.
A combatant, with la ilah
As his coat of mail.
Under the shadow of flashing
'La ilah' is his protection.
Your edifice unravels
The mystery of the faithful;
The fire of his fervent days,
The bliss of his tender nights.
Your grandeur calls to mind
The loftiness of his station,
The sweep of his vision,
His rapture, his ardour, his pride, his
The might of the man of faith
Is the might of the Almighty:
Dominant, creative, resourceful, consummate.
He is terrestrial with celestial aspect;
A being with the qualities of the
His contented self has no demands
On this world or the other.
His desires are modest; his aims exalted;
His manner charming; his ways winsome.
Soft in social exposure,
Tough in the line of pursuit.
But whether in fray or in social
Ever chaste at heart, ever clean in
In the celestial order of the macrocosm,
His immutable faith is the centre of the Divine
All else: illusion, sorcery, fallacy.
He is the journey's end for reason,
He is the raison d 'etre of Love.
An inspiration in the cosmic
O, Mecca of art lovers,
You are the majesty of the true tenet.
You have elevated Andalusia
To the eminence of the holy Harem.
Your equal in beauty,
If any under the skies,
Is the heart of the Muslim
And no one else.
Ah, those men of truth,
Those proud cavaliers of Arabia;
Endowed with a sublime character,
Imbued with candour and conviction.
Their reign gave the world an
unfamiliar concept;
That the authority of the brave and
Lay in modesty and simplicity,
Rather than pomp and regality.
Their sagacity guided the East and the West.
In the dark ages of Europe,
It was the light of their vision
That lit up the tracks.
A tribute to their blood it is,
That the Andalusians, even today,
Are effable and warm-hearted,
Ingenuous and bright of countenance.
Even today in this land,
Eyes like those of gazelles are a common
And darts shooting out of those eyes,
Even today, are on target.
Its breeze, even today,
Is laden with the fragrance of Yemen.
Its music, even today,
Carries strains of melodies from Hijaz.
Stars look upon your precincts as a piece of
But for centuries, alas!
Your porticoes have not resonated
With the call of the muezzin.
What distant valley, what way-side abode
Is holding back
That valiant caravan of rampant Love.
Germany witnessed the upheaval of religious
That left no trace of the old perspective.
Infallibility of the church sage began to
ring false.
Reason, once more, unfurled its sails.
France too went through its revolution
That changed the entire orientation of
Western life.
Followers of Rome,
Feeling antiquated worshipping the
Also rejuvenated themselves
With the relish of novelty.
The same storm is raging today
In the soul of the Muslim.
A Divine secret it is,
Not for the lips to utter.
Let us see what surfaces
From the depths of the deep.
Let us see what colour
The blue sky changes into.
Clouds in the yonder valley
Are drenched in roseate twilight.
The parting sun has left behind
Mounds and mounds of rubies, the best from
Simple and doleful is the song
Of the peasant's daughter:
Tender feelings adrift in the tide of
O, the ever-flowing waters of Guadalquivir1,
Someone on your banks
Is seeing a vision of some other period of
Tomorrow is still in the womb of
But its dawn is flashing before my
mind's eye.
Were I to lift the veil
From the profile of my reflections,
The West would be dazzled by its brilliance.
Life without change is death.
The tumult and turmoil of revolution
Keep the soul of a nation alive.
Keen, as a sword in the hands of Destiny
Is the nation
That evaluates its actions at each step.
Incomplete are all creations
Without the lifeblood of the creator.
Soulless is the melody
Without the lifeblood of the maestro.
[Translated by Saleem A. Gilani]
Not: This poem was written in in Spain, especially Cordoba
~ Allama Muhammad Iqbal,



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