19

To this poor man of town pay special heed,
Who craves great ferments¹ for thy bosom’s feed.

My woeful tone thus, a great wealth to soul,
A woeful heart’s wealth, not a common dole.

I have a right grievance on world’s taste blind,
Who took my love’s labour of Farhad’s kind.

On stone the axe sound, totally apart!¹
Listen! that was sound of axe and the heart!²

1 and 2. Note the great depth of thought in this Persian couplet of Mirza Mazhar Jan Janan of Delhi which Iqbal has quoted here. With this axe Farhad wanted to dig a canal from a mountain of Persia to win his lady love who was a Princess of that land. In that labour (of love) his whole blood of heart and soul is involved.

18

Get a higher will and a burning heart,
If dad’s sword you wish get his arm’s art.

17

Whom self’s ken taught to keep his being away,
On that fighter banned the chain armour way.

16

O land of flowers! no need to tell more,
Our heart’s colour is poppy, full of gore.

We gave to fate a name for ‘tit for tat’,
From Lord of Himala we heard this pratt.

In winds of winter, she is nude in form,
Whose skill gives the wealthy a cloak so warm.

With the wealth of this world keep a faith not,
Like gazelle she runs and takes fast trot.

15

A trade, ‘West’s conscience, ‘hermitage’ in, East,
Their changes world quick, here changes world least.

The Khizr said me once with a confidence,
A king or poor’s way all a magic hence.

Lords of hermitage, to me a rival take,
Their tomb stone they fear, my wails may not break.

A slave nation’s gnosis gives a clear sign,
If this earth is tight, the vast skies are mine.

Does he dupes God or dupes his self alone,
When he left practice to fate’s plea he owns.

The rose put the hunter in weeping trance,
From such flamed poet I felt no load hence.

14

How a heathen like, you play the life’s game,
You go with the world, to world, you cant tame.

No face I see in school of harem hence.
With Junaid’s heart, Zali-o-Razi’s glance.

The Grand Mufti says, This is nature’s way,
In deen of finch banned the hawk’s hold say!

The great Jurist said to hawk in mirth.
You fly along skies, why not along earth.

Since I have vowed not to speak lie,
I may back bite to king, there I don’t fly.

I have no Smarkand-o-Bukhara in hand,
Please pray for me to poet af this land.¹

1. Viz of Shiraz.

13

A sign of live nation this is the ‘Age’,¹
From morn to eve changes their fortune’s page.

A model of virtues and courtesies call,²
The nature forgives their sins and faults all.

With Alec’s grandeur, and remits prude,³
The nations in world are swords-but-nude.

From this Ego gets his grandeur a glaze,
As this is the book, the rest a new phrase.⁴

I cannot deny the pageant of Eids,
But "God is Great" call, of free man He heeds.

A sage may not. know my wails hidden sign.
Thus yonder to wits are the mad men’s lines.

1. The Age; here it means the World.
2. As they are very courteous.
3. Prude prudeness or saucy style of a hermit
4. A new phrase; here it means a paraphrase, an exegesis, a commentary.

12

The whole world shook from actions they played,
To live nations owe the events they made.

They wronged all views which a foreteller told,
From the sky fell down like sun the stars old.

The conscience of world is a fire untold,
From waves of river broke stars of fame old.

No rest the earth takes from these earthquakes,
How clear are hints which the nature makes.

How long the fonts boil at this mountain flanks,
The Khizr thus broods over the Wooler’s banks.
(The Khizr is thinking at the Wooler’s bank).

11

All mystics and common to self know not,
Is this mosque O’ Lord! or pub of the sot.

The chief waiz kept it out of our sight,
That Harem is the moth of Harem’s light.

The charms of paganism or faith’s whole flame.
The Sheikh and Pundit tales, the fiction’s game.

A boon for the land was the Dervish great,
Like Moses his faqr had all the fine traits.

How long the world hids the gifts of his make,
I mean the precious pearls of Wooler’s Lake.

10

A free mans s veins are hard like the stone’s veins,
The veins of ruled are soft like veins of soft canes.

A slave’s heart is dead, sad and hopeless hence,
The free’s heart alive with flames of joys sense.

A lucent heart, free man’s wealth and verves worm,
The wealth of ruled just a weeping eyes form.

A ruled can not make with free man a tie,
This is slave of sky, he’s master of sky.