English Translations - International Iqbal Society - Allama Iqbal

2021-02-19T16:44:38+00:00

A MYSTERIOUS VOICE

At dawn thus echoes a voice beyond sky,
How you lost the essence of ken¹ and pry.

The knife of thy hunt²how you made blunt,
The shining stars why you could ne’er hunts³.

To thy heritage, goes the caliphate,
Can flame be tied to tuft and hays fate.

The stars, sun and moon thy slaves are not why,
From thee shivers not, why not the whole sky.

That blood still runs in thy veins though,
No heat of thoughts nor a smashing dash⁴so.

A lucent eye though, but lacks seeing sense,
The eye which lacks a holy guide’s glance.

No longer looks now thy crystal conscience,
O prey of king’s an mullah, and Pir’s⁵ guidance.

1. Jauhar-i-Idrak.
2. Hunt; here it means research.
3. Hunt; prey.
4. Smashing (thought), andeshah-i-bae leak (fearless).
5. Pir; a spiritual guide (Peeri (Per: )

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THE LATE MASOOD
(SIR ROSS MASOOD)

This Moon and Sun the skies and stars lot.
Who know that this world would live or not.

The thought of Aim and Stays, my fiction’s same,
This life looks a journey sanz any aim.

Ah! the world kept not that monuments shine,
Of Mehmood and Ahmad’s miracles fine.

His death to knowledge a fall and decay,
A great wealth he was for caravan’s stay.

It moves me to weeping, the world’s cold ways,
At dawn to wail of birds, they think songs gay.

Say not, hid in patience, cure of friend’s grief,
Say not, patience solves the death’s crossword brief.

The beau is restive, but a stone is heart,
The love and patience thus are poles apart.

Ask me not what’s the fleeting life and age,
Who knows tricks and charms of life’s beauty cage.

Who came from this dust, hid in dust again,
Is this death a short void? who knows the arcane?

To dust of path destined His visions taste,
The wisdom can’t tell this purpose in haste.

The heart and eyes too wonders of this dust,
If not who knows then the height of man just.

No god save Allah is world’s moving soul,
In christ, the Cross and nail, what was the role?

For murder of longings who will compensate?
Who is the sinner and the ransom great?

If fastened in this tie no grief feels hence,
This heart is breaking the magics sense.

With self’s ‘live’ the death’ a place for rest
With death the love makes its permanence test.

If self is alive thy sea has no shore,
To meet the restive Nil-o-Euphrates roar.

With dead self the breeze is like a grass,
If selfs ‘live’ lie is king of whole mass.

If he takes from the eyes His Vision’s glance,
That void cant make up thousand Visions hence.

The place of Momin lies beyond the sky,
From Earth to seven stars ‘Lots’ only lie.

See her lasting home with God, in trance,
No dusk in grave and God’s lustres hence.

The self conscious hearts who crossed this dust,
They broke the magic of Sun and Moon just.

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THE HYMNS OF HELL DWELLER

The selfish priests live in this temple old,
When grieved by idols they take the God’s fold.

Their worship is vain, their prayers in vain,
The poor are destined to weep in old pain.

In height are buildings which kiss the sky,
In fact each city makes ruins by and by.

Let some one ponder the fate of axe yet,
Pervez¹well watered, the beau thirsty yet.

This knowledge, this science, statecraft and trade,
For kingship alone these games were made.

I thank thee O God! that this radiant tract,
Of bondage of West has no signs in fact,

1. Pervez; King of Persia (known in amatory legend of Shirin and Farhad on whose behest Farhad dug the canal with his axe. Thus the beau is Farhad, who could not yet win the hand of his lady love.

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A DETHRONED KING

I hail, that king great who earned a good name,
Whose sacrifice reveals the kingship’s game.

The king in British fane, idol of dust,
To whom the old baptists if wish can burst.

They keep a musky poppy for slaves like us,
O English charmer carve a new king for us.

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THE PURGATORY

A DEAD TO HIS GRAVE:
Of which today’s next would be doomsday?
O my old chamber! what is doomsday?

THE GRAVE:
O hundred years dead do you know, nay!
Each death’s hidden need is the doomsday

THE DEAD:
Which death’s hidden need is the doomsday.
Fastened in its trap, I would like, nay.
A hundred years dead I am called though,
I’m not sick of that dusty gloom so.
If a soul comes back in this body weak,
If that is doomsday, to that I wont seek.

A HIDDEN VOICE:
No fate of snakes and scorps: nor jungle’s snare,¹
A life long death’s fate is slaves’ only share.
To him cant wake up the Israpheel’s horn,
So void of soul body was his life’s thorn.
Would rise from graves the free men alone,
Though each man’s abode is the grave lone.

THE GRAVE (TO HER DEAD):
O fool in this world you were the men slave,
Now I follow why pinched me the grave
My gloom from thy body added more gloom,
The veil of Earth’s honour in rags did loom.
Shun hundred times from a slave’s body then,
O Seraph! O Soul! O God! of whole men.

A MYSTERIOUS VOICE:
From doomsday shakes the world’s order though,
This noise but opes; the Beings Secrets so.
From tremors, like clouds move the hills and dales,
The tremors ope fountains in dales and vales.
A new built up needs a total wreck,
Through wreck life breaks all the bottlenecks.

EARTH:
Oh! this lasting death! Oh battle! for life
Would the world ever, ends its strife.
A riddance from her idols, world cant get,
A savant or layman are Lot’s’ slaves yet.
How much man lowered who had Godly part's
Such world’s stay a load on eyes and hearts.

1. The phrase or simili of dam (snare) and dau (jungle is not used in English language. Pitfall is nearer to its sense.

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THE PICTURE AND PAINTER

PICTURE:
A picture said once on the painter’s play,
My beauty gets a charm on thy display.
To me it looks so unfair why?
That thou are hidden from my eye

PAINTER:
The glance a burden on seeing eye,
What happened to spark on seeing pry
Of griefs, pains, burnings, the look bad a part,
O heedless! be content with conscious heart!

PICTURE:
The heart a weak point of wisdom and sense,
A life long motive for the heart is glance.
This world’s tug and pull suits her never,
To hear God’s voice, "You cant see me ever

PAINTER:
Thou art a sign but of my wonder’s game,
Be despaired never of thy maker’s aim.
For my sure vision note a point hence,
Be not hidden e’er from thy own glance!

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AN ADVICE OF OLD BALUCH
TO HIS SON

I pray desert breeze would harmonize thee,
To desert tops not, Delhi Basra’s glee.

Like a moving gale, move any where,
This desert and dales would hail thee there.

In tug and pull’s race Envy is a grace,
Which puts Darius¹crown on poor man’s face.

Get this hid skill from a paragon²lone,
It is said that glass can be turned to stone.

In each man’s hand lies the nation’s fate,
Each man is a star of nation’s great.

That diver was robbed of wealth of sea,
Who was afraid to leave the shore with glee.

If his freedom hangs on the faith’s bargain,
In such a bargain he stands not to gain.

The soul and body yet face a clash,
This culture has made her wild beasts rash.

Allah has faith in Momin’s might and will,
On Europe’s hardware Satan makes his skill.

On the fate of nations none cant foretell,
On the Momin’s shrewd look you can always dwell.

A selfless life learn from foremost in deen,
The kings may favour a man of poor means.

1. Darius, 521, 486 B.C. King of Persia, called the Great. Verse 9: All faith has Allah in the Momin is will arm.
2. Used at paragon of virtues, a model of excellence.

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THE SATAN

An old game of needs this mean world’s tact,
To heavenly host hopes a cold blood act.

That Great Maker bent to wreck earth soon,
Who gave it a name of ‘KAF’ and ‘NOON’.

To Europe I gave the kingship’s dream,
I broke the spell of church and mosque’s team.

I taught to the poor a lesson of fate,
To the wealthy I gave the wealth’s craze great.

Who can put out that fire’s big blaze,
Of riots whome Satan had set ablaze.

To plants we watered, caused to be trees,
Who can bring that old tree to knees.

FIRST ADVISOR

The Satan’s order is firm every where,

The masses too like the servitude snare.

The bows were writ for the poor in fate,
A pray without stay their nature’s trait.

Either in his heart a wish does not lie,
If wakes up ever, would be raw and die.

Isn’t this a marvel of constant push’ hence,
That Mullah is tied with kingship fence.

A best booze it was to Eastern nature then,
No lesser vice singing to ‘eloquence’ ken.

The Haj and Ka’aba Rounds yet a rite though,
The nude sword of Moniin is blunt I know.

On whose despair he formed a queer view,
"On Muslim war is banned in this age new"

SECOND ADVISOR

Is this roar in goodness that masses are kings?
You know not new mischiefs of underlings.

FIRST ADVISOR

A good point well,my seeing eye hails,
No danger too there from a kingship’s veil.

We gave to kingship the masses rule’s dress,
Self conscious now is man with self’s ingress.

The kingship science has a different sense,
It needs not a garb of a monarch hence.

May be Nation’s Council or Kaiser’s court,
A king’s eye craves a foreign land or port.

Didn’t you see western democratic track,
Whose face is shining but inner is black.

THIRD ADVISOR

What is the harm if lives the royal soul,
What is the answer to that Jew’s wicked role.

That Moses sans vision! that Christ sans cross,
He’s not prophet, but, keeps Book for a gloss.

How to show that heathen’s shameless eyes,
To East, West nations a doomsday lies.

No worst cancer looks than his nature’s bent,
That the slaves have toppled the. master’s tent.

FOURTH ADVISOR

Its counter action see in Rome’s big halls,
We have shown his Sons, dream of Caesar’s call.

Who is now wrapped with waves of Roman Sea,
Like lute they weep oft, oft they grow like pine’s tree.

THIRD ADVISOR

I can’t admire his prudence and care,
Who laid bare the Europe’s statecraft snare.

FIFTH ADVISOR

Due to thy burning this world gets balance,
When you wished laid bare each hidden face hence.

Thy heat in his clay the world’s pomp and show,
You taught the heaven’s fool, a wisdom so.

Than thee He knows not the nature of men,
Who is famous as God, in the fool’s ken.

Whose duty was praise, rosary and round,
Due to thy envy, in shame ever bound.

All wise men of West are thy pupil though,
I have no faith yet in their wisdom so.

That mischief monger Jew, the Muzdak’s soul.
Each tunic gets torn from his crazy goal.

A crow looks prone to seize the hawk’s force,
How quick the time changes nature’s course.

Being restive she scanned the skies vast space,
Like fools we counted ‘dust’ of human race.

The horrors of future, looking so great,
With hills and vales shiver the brooks in spate.

My Master! that world is going to doom,
The world which looks to thy Leadership’s boom.

SATAN
(To His Advisor)

Thus lies in my hold the world’s pomp an show,
This earth, the Sun and Moon, the Sky’s glow.

Shall see the East and West my game and roar.
As soon I warm up Western nation’s gore.¹

The pontiffs of church, the leaders of State,
My one din’s echoe for them a dread great.

To her a modern world if a fool espies;
This culture’s wine cups will someone break and sea?

The collars to whom the Nature has torn,
The logic of Muzdak² to them cant darn.

How can frighten me the Socialist lads,³
Since long jobless, confused and loafing lads.³

From that nation but I feel a threat grave,
whose heart yet holds hidden embers of crave.

A few of them I espy in this nation yet,
At dawn who take ‘Wuzu’⁴with tear drops jet.

He knows on whom hidden Times are bright,
The Islam, not Muzdak is the future’s fright.

- 2 -

I know this nation to Quran holds not,
The old craze for wealth is the Momin ‘s thought.

In dark nights of East this point I behold,
The sleeves of Harem Sheikhs no white hand hold.

I am but afraid that modern age needs,
May not force this age to know Prophet’s creed.

Beware! hundred times from the Prophet’s Act,
It guards women honour, makes man perfect.

A death knell to those who made the mar, slave,
It ruled out kingship, no beggary it gave.’

It cleaned the man’s wealth from’ every stain,
It made the rich trustees of wealth’s wrong drain.

No bigger change could be of deeds and thoughts,
This earth owns to Allah, to a king not.

His Law be kept hidden from whole world’s eye,
To my solace Moumin lacks a faith high.

Let him be fastened in metaphysics lone,
In his own meanings of the Koran’s tone.

- 3 -

Whose call God is Great⁵broke the world spell,
That conscious man’s night why not a bright deli.

Did the Christ died or alive from start⁶?
Are God’s attributes His Part or apart?

Is the coming Christ Hindi Nasir’s dad?
Is he a mujaddid⁷like the Mary’s lad?

Are God’s words mortal or old like Him hence?
Which sect of the Ummah will have riddance?

Are’nt now enough for Muslims of this age?
His dogmas gods he found in his rummage.⁸

From a practical life keep him away,
Get all his pawns beaten in this nice way.

He’s better a slave upto the dooms day,
Leave the mortal world for others hey-day.

The verse and mysticism suits for his ‘deen’.⁹
Which hides from his eyes life’s vital scene.

I fear from this Ummah lest they awake,
Being his faith’s base, world account he would take.

In prays at dawn keep him rapt¹⁰and grave.¹¹
Make him zealot¹²fan of tombs and graves.

. Gore; (in poetry) blood from cut and wound, (chiefly in descriptions of fighting).

. Muzdak; who introduced a new religion. He was beheaded on the orders of King Nausherwan. He was a great orator and eloquent writer.

. Fad; (Khabt) a fanciful craze, as full of f. and fancies, or a stamp collecting fad.

. Wuzu; ablution (as a religious function).

. Allah-o-Akbar=Takbir=God is Great.

. From start—added for Rhyme only.

. Mujaddid; a reformist.

. Rummage; careful search; upheaval.

. Deen, faith.

. Rapt; (adj.) raised to raputres; transported, instrance.

. Grave, adj., serious.

. Zealot: fanatic.