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Armaghan I Hijaz
Armaghan I Hijaz
GIFT OF HIJAZ
(TRANSLATION OF THE URDU SECTION)
THE DEVIL’S CONFERENCE It has further strengthened in the
commoners their slavishness indeed.
IBLIS 1 Since the dawn of Time have these
This ancient game of elements, this base helpless mortals been ordained to
world! prostration:
The frustration of the longings of the great Prayer devoid of the posture of standing
Empyrean’s dwellers. erect is their nature’s constant urge.
Upon its destruction is bent to‐day that In their heart no desire can in fact take its
Fashioner of things, birth:
Who gave it the name, “The world of Be it But if it does, perchance, it dies or is left
so.” unripe.
I inspired in the European the dream of What wonders have our hard, persistent
Imperialism: endeavours wrought!
I broke the spell of the Mosque, the To‐day finds the mystics and the priests all
Temple and the Church. as subjects of Imperialism.
I taught the destitute to believe in Destiny: Suited to the disposition of the East was
I infused into the wealthy the craze for this opium indeed:
Capitalism. Otherwise Ilm‐i‐Kalam is no less self‐
Who dare extinguish the blazing fire in effacing than qawwali in effect.
him, What matters it, if the tumult of the
Whose tumults are stimulated by the pilgrimage and tawaf abides?
inherent passion of Satan? For, rendered blunt, lies unused the
Who could summon the courage to bend unsheathed sword of the Faithful.
down the old tree, Whose despair does this latest Ordinance
Whose branches their height to our prove:
watering owe? “To the Muslim in this age is forbidden
fighting in Lord’s name”?
FIRST COUNCILOR
Stable is the Satanic system, no doubt there SECOND COUNCILOR
is! Is the clamour for “Government by the
people” evil or good?
Art thou unaware of the fresh mischiefs of
1 We have removed the translator’s parenthesis the world?
“the Arch‐devil,” which do not occur in the
original.
2 Collected Poetical Works of Iqbal
FIRST COUNCILOR That now expands like a pine, and then wails
Aware am I! but tells me my cosmic like a rebeck!
foresight:
No danger from what is but a masquerade THIRD COUNCILOR
for imperialism. Little do I recognize him to be a man of
We ourselves have dressed imperialism in far‐sighted wisdom:
the garb of democracy (A fool!) who has thus European politics
When man has grown to be a little self‐ exposed.
conscious and self‐observant.
The true nature of the system of FIFTH COUNCILOR (TURNING TO IBLIS)
imperialism lies elsewhere: O thou! the fire of whose breath lends
It depends not on the existence of an stability to the world‐process:
individual leader of a king. Whenever thou wished, everything hidden
Be it a national assembly of the court of presently did thou reveal.
Parviz, It is thy fire that has transformed dead
Whoever casts a covetous eye on other’s earth and water into a world of beauty
harvest is a king. and endeavour:
Hast thou not observed the democratic Inspired by thy instruction, the fool of
system of the West? Paradise turns a seer.
With a brilliant exterior, its interior is More closely familiar with man’s nature
darker than Genghis’s. than thee is not He:
Who among the simpletons is known as
THIRD COUNCILOR God the Sustainer.
No cause for anxiety then, if the spirit of Those whose business was confined to
imperialism be preserved: sanctifying, singing hymns and going
But what counter‐measure to the mischief round:
wrought by that Jew have you? Thy sense of self‐respect has out them to
That Moses without Light, that Jesus shame for ever, with their heads
without the Cross: hanging low.
No prophet is he, yet with him a book he Though the wizards of Europe all are
carries. disciples to thee:
I can hardly explain what significance does No longer have I faith in their sagacity left.
the infidel penetrating vision possess: That Jew, that mischief‐maker, that
It is, methinks, the day of reckoning for the reincarnation of Mazdak:
peoples of the East and the West. Each tunic is about to be torn to shreds by
No greater corruption of human nature his fanaticism.
than this would be: Behold! the wild crow is vying with the
Slaves have broken asunder the ropes of falcon and the hyena:
the masters’ tents. Lo, how swiftly does the disposition of
Time allow of a change!
FOURTH COUNCILOR It spread about, and covered the whole
Watch its counteraction in the palaces of expanse of skies:
Imperial Rome: What we unwisely had taken for a handful
Again did we inspire in the descendants of of dust.
Caesar the dream of Caesar. Such is the state of the ghastly dread of the
Who is coiled round the waves of the morrow’s disturbance:
Mediterranean? To‐day tremble with overwhelming awe,
mountains, meadows and rivers all.
That world is going to turn topsy‐turvy, And I know, too, that in the dark night of
my Lord! the East
The world which resteth solely on thy The sleeve of the holy ones of the
governance. Sanctuary is bereft of the white,
illuminating hand.
IBLIS (TO HIS COUNCILORS) The demands of the present age, however,
Absolute command have I of the world of spell the apprehension:
scent and hue! Lest the Shari‘ah of the Prophet should
The earth, the sun, the moon and the come to light one day:
firmaments all! Beware, a hundred times beware, of the
With their own eyes shall the West and the Law of the Prophet!—
East witness the Spectacle: The protector of women’s honour, the
When I but warm the blood of the nations tester of men’s capacities, the rearer of
of Europe. worthy men!
The leaders of politics and the patriarchs The message of death to any kind of
of church all: slavery!
One call from me would be enough to turn No sovereigns and no monarchs, no
them mad. mendicants begging!
The fool who considers it to be mere glass‐ It does purify wealth of all pollution:
work: It makes the wealthy trustees of wealth
Let him dare smash the goblets and ewers and property.
of this Civilization. What greater revolution in thought and
The collars torn asunder by the hand of action will there be:
Nature: Not to the crowned heads, but to God
Can’t be darned with the needle of the alone does this Earth belong!
Mazdakite logic. Better, if this Law be kept hidden from the
How could I be frightened by these world’s eye:
Socialists, straying about the streets? So much the better, the Believer himself is
Wretched and straitened, distracted in deprived of inner conviction.
mind, incoherent in speech! Better that he remains busy and entangled
The only menace I anticipate may come in the metaphysical theology:
that community: Better, that he remains busy and entangled
Which still a spark of ambition hidden in in the interpretations of the Book of
its ashes retains. God.
Amongst this people there are still to be
seen a few 3
Who go so far as to perform their ablutions Whose cries of God is Most High could
with the tears of pre‐morning hours. break the charm of the universe:
Knows he to whom are revealed the inner May the dark night of that God‐thinking
secrets of Time: man not ever turn bright!
Not Mazdakism, but Islam is to be the Is the Son of Mary dead or is he endowed
trouble of the morrow. with eternal life?
2 Are the Attributes of God separate from
God, or do they form what He is?
I do know this community is no longer the Does the expected mean Jesus of Nazareth?
bearer of the Quran: Or a Renewer, endowed with the
The same Capitalism is the religion of the attributes of the Son of Mary?
Believer now.
4 Collected Poetical Works of Iqbal
Are the letters of the Word of God New or Clings by land’s margin. To the Muslim
of Old? freedom
In which of the doctrines does the Gained at the price of casting off religion
salvation of the Blessed Community Makes an ill bargain! In our world, where
lies? once more
Are not enough to the Faithful in this age: Civilization
These idols of worship carved by
Looses its wild beasts, in one more encounter
Metaphysical Theology?
Spirit and flesh meet; on the true‐believer’s
Our safety lies in that Believer remains a
Manhood God’s trust lies—the machines of
slave till Doomsday:
Europe
Renouncing this transitory world for
Satan’s alliance.
others’ sake.
What is good in his case is that poetry and Who knows the nation’s fates?—but signs
mysticism abound, if
Which may keep hidden from his eyes the Muslims are wakeful. From your buried
game of Life. fathers
Every moment do I dread the awakening Ask pride of action; do not fear—a king may
of this community Smile on a beggar.
Whose religion is, in reality, nothing short [Translated by V.G. Kiernan]
of taking account of the universe.
Keep him well absorbed in the thought PAINTING AND THE PAINTER
and contemplation of God in pre‐
Said the portrait to its Painter:
morning hours:
“My manifestation attests to Thine
Ye all make him grow stronger in his
unbounded Skill;
monastic disposition!
And yet what a violation of justice it is that
[Translated by Muhammad Ashraf] Thou shouldst remain hid from my sight!
THE ADVICE OF AN OLD BALUCH TO THE PAINTER
HIS SON The vision endowed to those that observe
find it oppressive:
Winds of these wasteland be your love! Bokhara,
See for thyself how the spark burnt itself
Delhi, are worth no more. Like running water
out when it saw the world!
Go where you will: these desert plains are
What aught is sight but sadness, gloom,
ours, and
feverishness and self‐torment:
Ours are these valleys.
Rest, or thou ignorant (of the mysteries),
Honour, that high thing in a world of troubling, upon report.
Sets on the hermit’s head Darius’ crown. How
Glass is forged flint‐hard—this strange craft THE PORTRAIT
they tell of What aught is report but the impotence of
Learn from some master! ratiocination and wisdom?
Vision is the eternal springtide of life.
Fortunes of States through individual
The hustle and the bustle of the present
prowess ripen
age does not permit one
Each man one star of their ascendant:
To express oneself melodiously.
Ocean withholds her treasure when the diver
Groping for pearlshells THE PAINTER
Thou doth exist because the Perfection of
My Art.
Do not, then, feel cast out in THE GRAVE (TO ITS CORPSE)
disappointment with Him that hath You vicious creature! In the world you
drawn thee. were a slave!
I only put one condition if thou wishest to I had failed to understand why my soil
see Me: was as hot as fire!
Never disappear from thine own sight. Your corpse makes my darkness even
darker. Comment [KB1]: ‘Iqbal Towards
[Translated by Kamal M. Habib]
It rips the earth’s veil of honour. an Ethical Theory of Poetry’ in Iqbal
Review, April 1975
THE STATE OF BARZAKH Beware, beware a hundred times of a
slave’s corpse!
THE CORPSE (TO ITS GRAVE) O Israfil! O Lord of the universe!
What is it, this Resurrection Day? O soul that is chaste and pure!
Of what present is it the future?
0 my ancient sleeping‐chamber, THE VOICE FROM THE UNSEEN
What is Resurrection Day? Resurrection upsets the order of the
universe,
THE GRAVE But it is this commotions that reveals the
O corpse of a hundred years, don’t you secrets of existence.
know An earthquake makes mountains fly like
That every death implies a call for clouds,
resurrection? But it also starts new springs flowing in
the valleys.
THE CORPSE Total destruction must come before any
A death that implies resurrection re‐creation –
Such a death does not entrap me! For in this way the problems of existence
It is true that I have been dead for a are resolved.
hundred years,
But I am not tired of this dark chamber in THE EARTH
the earth. Oh, this eternal death! Oh, this struggle
The soul should once again ride the poor that marks life!
body Will this conflict in the world ever end?
If this is resurrection, then I am not a taker! Reason cannot free itself from its idols;
The commoners and the elite‐all are slaves
A VOICE FROM THE UNSEEN to Lat and Manat.
Death is not for snakes and scorpions, How abject Adam‐ the man with divine
Or for birds and beasts of prey, attributes ‐has now become!
Eternal death is the lot of slave nations That such a world should continue to exist
alone. Is more than heart and eye can bear.
Even Israfil’s trumpet cannot bring back to Why does man’s night not turn into dawn?
life those
Whose bodies, when they lived, had no [Translated by Mustansir Mir]
souls. A DEPOSED MONARCH
To spring back to life after death ‐only the
free can do that, Good luck to that King, cashiered so
Even though all living beings are headed gracefully, whose
Into the arms of the grave. Dismissal shows how a ruling Power behaves!
In Britain’s fane the King is only a plaster
Image its worshippers smash whenever they
choose;
6 Collected Poetical Works of Iqbal
Its opiate incense is for us, the slaves— The indifferent cold manner of
Come, English swindler, bring out our new Worldly men moves me to tears.
master! They reckon the dawn wails of birds
As lilting songs!
LITANY OF THE DAMNED Please! Do not plead that
Itching palms, in the old temple of Earth, have The remedy of grief for a friend
the kneelers, Lies hidden in patience!
Men who remember their God only when Please do not say that in patience lies
idols are deaf. The solution of Death’s riddle!
Vain are the Hindu’s rites and vain the A heart, howsoever loving and patient, is
Mohammedan’s worship; All the same, a stone.
Wailing and gnashing of teeth still are the lot And between love and patience lie
of the poor. A thousand miles. 2
None of earth’s cities in truth is more than a Don’t ask what is fleeting life
populous desert, For, who knows what means
High though their buildings soar, kissing the This combine of magic and colour charm?
sky with their roofs. One born of dust must hide in dust.
Axe in hand Farhad toils on;—Fate’s irony But what does it mean?
witness! A short lived absence or extinction?
Slek and content is Parvez, parching with This man, this mere dust of path,
drought in Farhad. Has been endowed with artistic taste.
All that there is in that world its rulers’ brains Of this,
have engendered: Reason cannot reveal the aim.
Science and learning are theirs, commerce and Are the heart and vision too
practice of State; The miracles of this very water and clay?
Free of enslavement, Allah be thanked, to the If not, what then is the end‐all of man?
huckster of Europe— The moving soul of this universe is
Free is this country of ours, scorched in the There is no god but God.
furnace of Hell. Then why the Messiah, the nails and the
[Translated by V.G. Kiernan] cross?
From whom should be demanded
THE LATE MASUD The blood‐money of longings spilt?
The sun, the moon, the stars For, who is the guilty and what the blood
And this azure sky all around— money?
Who can tell for sure all this is Grieve not that we are
The world nothingness or being! In the bondage of this world,
The ideas of roads and destinations As the heart that we have
Are fictions and myths Breaks all magic spells.
As life is aimless journey, indeed. If the self lives, death is but
Alas! Time’s hand wiped out A sojourn in life: as love
That monument of the perfections Tries death in a test of eternal life.
Of Ahmad and Mahmood. If the self is alive, your ocean is shoreless
His sudden death signifies And the waves of the Nile, of Euphrates
The decline of knowledge and art Are restless, separated from you.
His, Masood’s, who was If the self is dead, you are
The most valuable asset
Of this caravan of ours. 2 Iqbal’s note—[the quotation is from] Saadi.
Like a straw before the breeze. Not a bit remains in you
If the self is alive, you Of your clear reflection of conscience!
The sultan of all existence. Alas! O you victim of imperialism,
If the eye is deprived of Of mullah‐ism and mysticism!
One vision of beauty exposed,
[Translated by Maqbool Elahi]
Myriad exposures of beauty
Compensate for one loss. QUATRAINS
The station of a true momin is
1
Beyond the sky’s reach.
Below, from the earth to the Pleiades What fruit will the bough of my hope bear–
All are idol‐houses of Lat and Manat. What do I know of your destiny?
His eternal abode is The rose‐bud needs to open today–
The sacred precinct of the One and the Only Why wait for tomorrow’s morning breeze?
One,
[Translated by Mustansir Mir]
Not this gloomy dusty grave
Nor this exposure house of Attributes! Set him free of this world’s affairs
Those self‐aware who have To be free of casting for everyone snares.
Leapt above this abode of dust In old age, Satan’s thoughts too are old
Have broken the spell of Wherefrom should he bring new sins’ flares?
The sun, the sky and the stars! Upset this world of morn and eve,
A VOICE FROM BEYOND Of these wetlands, of those dry leave.
May your Godhead remain free of blemish all
From the Emperium enquires In my insipid prostrations do not believe!
A voice at dawn: how did
You lose your essential quality [Translated by Maqbool Elahi]
Of enquiry and understanding? 2
How was blunted
My poor estate makes proud men covetous,
Your scalpel of research?
Poverty such as mine ennobles us.
Why do you not rend open
Beware those other rags and begging‐bowls
The hearts of stars?
That make the Muslim pusillanimous!
You deserve to dominate and rule over
All that is visible as well as esoteric. [Translated by V.G. Kiernan]
Can a flame be the slave of
Rescue me please from wisdom’s narrowness
Dry sticks and grass?
And from excessive light, its plentifulness.
Why are the sun, moon and stars not
It deigns to cast looks at others, that is,
Under your suzerainty?
The eye of Muslims’ shamelessness!
Why don’t heavens shudder
With a mere glance from you? [Translated by Maqbool Elahi]
True! Iqbal said to the Shaykh of the Ka‘bah:
Even to‐day blood courses ‘Who went to sleep under the very arch in the
Through your veins, but mosque?’
Your thoughts do not inspire A voice sounded from the walls of the
Nor is your thinking fearless. mosque:
An eye which in its vision ‘Who became lost in the idol‐house of the
Does not imbibe pure virtue West?’
Is capable of seeing, no doubt,
But is not all‐seeing. [Translated by Mustansir Mir]
8 Collected Poetical Works of Iqbal
The old flame of desires has grown cold THE POETIC NOTEBOOK OF MULLAZADE
As the Muslims’ veins hot‐blood no longer ZAIGHAM OF LAULAB
hold.
Greetings to the idols for my secularism 1
For flame of Allah Hoo’s cheers is dead, Your springs and lakes
behold! with water pulsating and quivering like
The talk of Muslim is interesting, quicksilver,
His heart warm, breath light and gaze the morning birds fluttering about the sky,
arresting. agitated and in turmoil,
O who can catch a glimpse of him, for he O Valley of Laulab!
Though the very soul of company, is by When the pulpit and the niche
himself resting! cease to re‐create Resurrections,
[Translated by Maqbool Elahi] faith then is dead or a mere dream,
for thee, me and for all.
The clairvoyance of the zephyr
O Valley of Laulab!
Is apparent from its discrimination between
flowers and thorns! The Mullah’s sight has lost
A flower cannot be guarded the light of penetrative discernment;
If the thorn has the nature of silk. the mystic’s wine, pure and sparkling,
no longer produces frenzy,
[Translated by the Editors]
O Valley of Laulab!
Of love and losing what words need be said?
A dervish
The self’s unfolding is Life’s fountain‐head;
whose morning lamentation
There’s neither loss to ocean nor to pearl
may awaken the hearts of the people
In the pearl’s loosening from the ocean’s bed.
is no longer around,
[Translated by V.G. Kiernan] O Valley of Laulab!
Why is there no storm in your sea? 2
Why is your khudi not Muslim?
Harder than death is what thou call’st slavery,
It is pointless to complain of God’s decree –
would that slaves understand master’s tricks;
Why are you not God’s decree?
strange are the ways of imperialists:
[Translated by Mustansir Mir]
they allow the sounding of trumpet; but
If with the heart’s eye the intellect would see forbid resurrection.
aright
Thy soul is weary under the stress of slavery,
This universe is illuminated with Allah’s
build niche for khudi in thy impassive breast.
light.
But if you see through the waxing sun and 3
moon, Today that land of Kashmir, under the heels
It is just the revolution of morn and night. of the enemy,
Sometimes by rising from the ocean like a has become weak, helpless and poor—
wave, once known among the wise as Little Iran.
Occasionally like a diver in its bosom behave. When the man of truth is overawed by the
At times cross beyond the ocean’s shore power and pomp of king and landlord,
To expose better your self’s real enclave. a cry of burning lament issues forth from the
[Translated by Maqbool Elahi] heavens.
The old farmer’s cottage, on the 6
mountainside, where pain and grief ever
The dissolute know the Sufi’s
rule—
accomplishments,
tells its sad story of Fate’s hard lot.
though their miracles are not so well‐known.
So skilful of hands, so rich in mind, these
Self‐enrichment, self‐respect and the cry of
people, alas, or pure breed,
Ana‐al‐Haq—
O God, your justice, so long delayed, must
these are the states of the wayfarer, if he be
come at last as a retribution.
free;
4
but if slave, then it all becomes his all is He;
When the enslaved people’s rage boils and he is dead body, grave and sudden death, all
they rise in revolt against the master, in one.
this world of near and far, of colour and
7
smell, becomes the scene of tremors and
convulsions. Come out of the monastery and play the role
of Shabbir,
It purifies man’s conscience—eschewing all
for monastery’s faqr is but grief and affliction.
doubts and misgivings—
When the lamp of high ideals is lit, Thy religion and literature both smell of
brightening all paths leading to the goal. renunciation:
symbol of old age of dying nations.
There are old maladies and ancients scars the
people suffer from, that intellect fails to cure Imperialism has myriads of Satans with eyes
and heal, full of magic charms
but love shows its skill and without the help that evoke among the prey an irresistible urge
of physician’s talents removes all scars and to be its victim.
cures all woes. How carelessly they passed by, with no ear to
The master’s sturdy body—with a heart of my lamentations,
stone and face of a mirror— The Kashmiri’s black eyes, so lacking in lustre
gets soon smashed up and beaten down at the and life, who made them so dead and mute?
repeated blows of the weak slave. 8
5 Thou think’st it a mere drop of blood; well,
The partridge flies with the majesty of the manʹs heart is but lofty ambitions.
falcons; The revolutions of moon and stars are not to
the hunter is nonplussed: is it a partridge or a its liking:
falcon? It makes its own nights and days.
Every nation is astir, her thoughts in a The earth that enshrines in its bosom the fire
constant flux; of plane tree:
today we see in the East the signs of this exalted earth can never be dead and cold.
tomorrow’s resurrection.
9
The deadbody, awaiting Israfil’s Call, has all
of a sudden risen to life: When flowers’ bookshop opened in the
Nature’s pitiless laws work wonders. garden
Mullah’s bookish knowledge lost all value.
10 Collected Poetical Works of Iqbal
The spring breeze was exhilarating, poise‐ O God, may the valley have a dervish
breaking, whose faqr works Moses‐like;
the old man of Indrab burst into ghazal‐
how long would they remain hidden from the
singing.
world?
The tulip, of fiery skirt, said: the unique gems that the Wooler Lake has in
it doth reveal the secrets of the soul. its depth.
Who calls sleep awhile in the grave as eternal 12
death,
The living nations of the world have won
sows seeds of destruction in the earth.
their laurels,
Life is not a succession of days and nights, the world transformed through the dynamism
nor is it intoxication and dreamy sleep; of their acts;
life is to burn in one’s fire: the astrologer’s calendar of the future is false,
happy is the man who grasps this truth. the old stars have fallen away.
If thou snatch’st a spark from heart’s fire, The world’s heart is so fiery
thou canst be a sun under the sky. that river waves shoot out stars.
10 The earth is experiencing tremors after
tremors,
A free man’s vein is hard like stone’s,
the warnings of Nature are but too clear.
a slave’s is tender like vine’s;
Khidr, standing by the Wooler, is thinking:
a slave’s heart is dead, frustrated and never
When will the Himalayas’ springs burst forth?
sees the light of hope;
a free man’s heart is alive, full of zest and 13
happiness.
It is the sign of living nations
A free man’s wealth, a shining heart and their fate changes day and night;
warm breath,
their life is sincerity and generosity to
that of slave, only moist eyes.
perfection,
The slave lacks sincerity and generosity Nature too forgives their follies;
though he be adept in argumentation.
in manners qalandar‐like, in majesty as
And never the twine shall be equal, Iskander:
the one is slave to fate, the other, master of these people are like naked swords.
fate.
Beauty and majesty of a self‐conscious man
11 flows from khudi:
it is the text, the rest are commentaries.
All high and low are unaware of khudi:
is it a mosque or tavern? I don’t deny the splendour of the days of ‘Id,
but alas! only the takbirs of free men are
The head preacher has withheld this secret
acceptable to God.
from us:
the Harem itself is the moth moving round What can the sage know my songs’ secret?
Harem’s lamp. the words of man of madness are beyond
reason’s ken.
Faith and kufr, only talisman of ignorance,
talking of Shaykh and Brahman is all myth;
14 The rose twig made the hunter weep on
seeing me caught in the net:
How heretically do you play the game of life?
a charming sweet singer was he, his nest
you adjust yourself to times, rather than to
rested harmlessly on my branches.
thine self.
16
I no longer see in the schools
heart of Junaid and insight of Ghazali and O land of charming and sweet flowers what
Razi. need is there to explain:
the burning red tulip, grief‐stricken and sad,
Nature—the great lawgiver—decrees:
best reflects our bloody heart.
the ways of falcon are forbidden in the
religion of sparrows. The gods of Himalayas speak thus to thee, to
me and to all:
The same heavenly law‐giver decreed for the
Fate is a name we give to the retribution of
male falcon:
what we do and act.
fly about the skies, don’t deal with the earth.
In the bitter winds of winter, the poor
I have not left speaking the naked truth,
labourer works in a naked body,
though the people may speak ill of me before
though his skill provides shawls to the rich.
the kings.
The world shall never be loyal to thee:
We have neither Samarkand nor Bukhara to
it is and has been ever in flux.
offer,
the dervish can only pray for the Shirazi Turk. 17
15 Self‐awareness has made the mujahid forget
his body,
The ways of the West are calculating, the
to whom bearing of coat‐of‐mail is forbidden.
ways of the East are monkish;
there the times change from moment to 18
moment, here the times see no change
Nourish that lofty will and burning heart,
whatsoever.
get back your father’s arms if thou wish’st to
Khidr, on the bank of the river, spoke to me have his sword.
thus in confidence:
19
all are the ways of sorcery, be the actor a king
of dervish. I am quiet a stranger to the town, listen to my
bewailings;
These people of the monasteries look upon
may thy breast entertain many a resurrection!
me as their rival;
they fear lest my beautiful songs rent asunder The grief‐laden songs of mine are valuable:
the saint’s threshold stone. the unsatisfied heart is a wealth most
uncommon.
This is the manifest symbol of the knowledge
of the slave people: I fear the world does not appreciate my
What if the earth has limits! the whole labour,
expanse of Space is boundless. it isn’t like Farhad’s:
I can’t see what it is: is it self‐deception of
deception of God?
Having invented the excuse of fate, the
Muslim has ceased to act meaningfully.
12 Collected Poetical Works of Iqbal
The axe’s noise falling on the stone is something It is all Bu Lahab’s idolatry!
else,
[Translated by Maqbool Elahi]
Beware, it is voice of axe falling on the heart 3 .
[Translated by K. Nizam‐ud‐Din]
THE HUMAN BEING
To know and see is so easy in the world.
TO SIR AKBAR HYDERI
Nothing may stay hidden for this universe is
THE CHIEF MINISTER OF HYDERABAD DECCAN
luminous.
On receiving a cheque of one thousand The Nature’s veil is translucent if one is
rupees as ‘entertainment’ from the privy willing to see:
purse of the Nizam, which is in the charge Far too visible are the angel’s faint smiles.
of the Chief Minister This world is an invitation for the human
being to look,
It was God’s command that the pomp of
For every secret is given an instinct to jump
Parviz
out of its closet.
Be given to the qalandar, for he has angelic
It is the tears of human blood that the
attributes.
Almighty has used
I was told: Take it and be an emperor;
For stirring up storms in His oceans.
Confer permanence on the ephemeral with
What would the sky know whose abode is
your talent.
this earthy planet;
I would have much honoured this trust—
On whose nightly banquets do the stars stand
All bitterness tastes sweet to the mouth of a
in watch!
dervish.
If I am the end of all, then what lies beyond?
However, the self‐respect of faqr could not
Where lies the limit of my unending
accept it
adventures?
When He said: this is the charity of my
Godhead. [Translated by the Editors]
[Translated by the Editors]
HUSAIN AHMAD
The Ajamites do not yet know
The fine points of our faith;
Otherwise, Husain Ahmad of Deoband!
What is this foolhardiness?
A sermon‐song from the pulpit that
A nation by a homeland be!
From the real position
Of the Arabian Prophet
How sadly unaware is he!
Your self merge with Mustafa
For all faith embodies in him!
If you do not reach up to him
3 Iqbal’s note—“The axe’s noise…” This couplet is
from Kharitah‐i‐Jawahar, the famous notebook of
Mirza Mazhar Janijanan (may God have mercy on
him).