Allama Mohammed Iqbal Ghazal And Poem English - Page 1

Was found to dwell in the den o'my heart.

Had it known the code of obeisance, Kaaba's

door-stone.

Would have met the kneeling brows, rising of its

own.

Did you ever see yourself O Majnun?

You too like Laila, are screened, aloft.

The months of union fly like hours,

But the hours of severance crawl like months.

How can you steersman save me from drowing?

Those fated to drown will drown despite the boat.

Their breath can ignite a taper gone extinct,

What lies concealed, O Lord, behind these tender

heart?

If you prize a compassionate heart serve thou the

saints.

Don't expect to find this pearl in the royal troves.

Ask not about these ragged folk, see them with the

eye of faith.

Miracle-working hands they hide beneath their

tattered sleeves.

Find for love a heart fragile, for it's such a wine.

Which needs for its storage a frail bubble-like flask.

Hold, my heart behooves thee not in company to

scream,

Decorum i the fist demand of the code of love.

Can I disparage him? Expect it not from me.

Wherefrom, O Lord, do these lovers spring?

Even in treating my pain, I choose a painful way,

With the tip of the needle I pick, the thorns in my

blistered soles.

God preserve the garden of my cherished hopes!

I've watered these plants with my life-blood.

The silence of the stars at night compels me to

weep.

Unique is my love unique my wails.

Ask me not the pleasure of living a homeless life,

I have built then burnt hundreds of my nests.

Don't distance yourself from co-travelers in life.

Stay awhile O spark we too are doomed to die.

The expectation of hours in heaven has fully trained

the priest.

Seemingly this master-mind is simple and naive.

Why shouldn't my verses Iqbal be dear to me?

nightingale.

Hold it still awhile in your restive breast.

If reason is far-sighted, it is maturity's mark,

If love is far-sighted, it is immature still.

Love plunged into the tyrant's fire without least

demur,

Reason on the roof-top is still watching the show.

Love carried out at once the bidding it had got,

Reason is still wrestling with the meaning of the

charge.

O rainfall cloud, how long niggardly drops?

The tulips on my moment are withering away athirst.

The garden breeze blows in tidings of Iqbal,

form.

A thousand homage's lie a bursting behind my

humble brow.

Reveal Thyself in a joyous din. let Thy grace find a

voice.

Why should melody remain confined within the

muted flute?

Don't try to save and hold it yours is such a mirror.

Which when broken is doubly dear in its Maker's

eye.

Love has lost its former fervor Beauty its winsome

wiles,

Ghaznavi has spent his fire Ayaaz has shed his

curls.

When at times I kneel to pray a voice emerges

from below,

''O ye idolater at heart what will you gain from