Dear Friends,
For many years, my friends have been requesting me to write this very famous poem of Dr. Iqbal, the Famous Urdu poet of India for non urdu readers. Finally, I have written it in Roman script. The first part of this poem deals with Iqbal complaining to God about the Muslim plight and the second part is the answer from God. The translation of this poem by an unknown person is included.
Asghar Vasanwala
Shikwa or Complaint [to God] by Allama Mohammad Iqbal – Roman Urdu
Kyon Ziaan kaar banun, sood framosh rahoon?
Fikr-e-farda na karum, mahw-e-ghum-e-dosh rahoon,
Naale bulbul ke sunoon, aurhama tan gosh rahoon,
Hamnawa main bhi koi gul hoon ke khamosh rahoon?
Jurrat aamoz miri taab-e-sakhun hai mujhko,
Shikwa Allah se khakam badahan hai mujhko.
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Ai Khuda shikwa-e-arbab-e-wafa bhi sun le,
Khu gar-e-hamd se thora sa gila bhi sun le.
Thi tau maujood azal se hi tiri zaat-e-qadim,
Phool tha zeb-e-chaman, par na pareshan thi shamim;
Shart insaaf hai, ai, sahib-e-altaf-e-amim,
Boo-e-gul phailti kis tarah jo hoti na nasim?
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Hum se pahle tha ajab tere jahan ka manzir,
Kahin masjood the pather, kahin maabood shajar,
Khugar-e-paikar-e-mahsoos thi insaan ki nazar,
Maanta phir koi un-dekhe Khuda ko kyonkar?
Tujhko maalum hai leta tha koi naam tira?
Quwwat-e-baazoo-e-Muslim ne kiya Kaam tira!
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Bas rahe the yahin salijuq bhi, toorani bhi,
Ahl-e-chin cheen mein, Iran mein sasaani bhi,
Isi maamoore mein aabad the Yunaani bhi,
Isi duniya mein Yahudi bhi the, Nusraani bhi,
Par tire naam pe talwar uthai kis ne,
Baat jo bigri huri thi who banaai kis ne
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The hameen ek tire maarka aaraaon mein!
Khushkion mein kabhi larte, kabhi dariyaon mein,
Di azaanen kabhi Europe ke kaleesaaon mein,
Kabhi Africa ke tapte hue sahraaon mein.
Thi na kuchh teg zani apni hakumat ke lieye,
Sar ba-kaf phirte the kya dahar mein daulat ke lieye?
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Qaum apni jo zar-o-maal-e-jahan par marti,
But faroshi ke iwaz but shikni kyon karti?
Naqsh tauheed ka har dil pe bithaya hum ne,
Zer-e-khanjar bhi yeh paigham sunaya hum ne.
Tu hi kah de ke ukhara dar-e-Khyber kis ne,
Shaher qaiser ka jo tha us ko kiya sar kis ne?
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Tore makhluq khudawandon ke paikar kis ne?
Kaat kar rakh diye kaffaar ke lashkar kis ne?
Aa gaya ain laraai mein agar waqt-e-namaz,
Qibla roo ho ke zamin bos hui qaum-e-Hejaz,
Ek hi saf mein khare ho gaye mahmud-o-Ayaz,
No koi banda raha aur no koi banda nawaz.
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Banda-o-sahib-o-muhtaaj-o-ghani ek hue,
Teri sarkar mein pahunche tau sabhi ek hue.
Mehfil-e-kaun-o-makaan mein shar-o-shaam phire,
Mai-e-tauheed ko lekar sift-e-jam phire.
Dasht tau dasht hain, darya bhi na chhore hum ne,
Bahr-e-zulmaat mein daura diye ghore hum ne.
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Safah-e-dahar se baatil ko mitaya hum ne,
Nau-e-insaan ko ghulami se chhuraya hum ne,
Tere kaabe ko jabeenon se basaya hum ne,
Tere Quraan ko seenon se lagaya hum ne.
Phir bhi hum se yeh gila hai, ke wafadar nahin,
Hum wafadar nahin, tu bhi tau dildar nahin!
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Rahmaten hain tiri aghiyar ke kashaanon par,
Barq girti hai tau bechare Musalmaanon par!
Yeh shikait nahin, hain un ke khazane maamur,
Nehin mehfil mein jinhen baat bhi karne ka shaoor,
Qahar tau yeh hai ke kafir ko milen hoor-o-qasoor,
Aur bechaare Musalmaan ko faqt waada-e-hoor!
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Taan-e-aghiyaar hai, ruswai hai, nadaari hai,
Kya tere nam pe marne ka iwaz khwari hai?
Hum tau jeete hain ke duniya mein tira naam rahe,
Kahin mumkin hai saqi na rahe, jaam rahe?
Teri mehfil bhi gai, chahne walw bhi gaye,
Shab ki aahen bhi gaien, subah ke nale bhi gaye,
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Dil tujhe debhi gaye, apna sila le bhi gaye,
Aa ke baithe bhi na the, ke nikaale bhi gaye.
Aae ushaaq, gaye waada-e-farda lekar,
Ab unhen dhoond chirag-e-rukh-e-zeba lekar!
Dard-e-Laila bhi wohi, Qais ka pahlu bhi wohi,
Nejd ke dasht-o-jabal mein ram-e-aahoo bhi wohi,
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Ishq ka dil bhi wohi, husn ka jaadoo bhi wohi,
Ummat-e-Ahmed-e-Mursil bhi wohi, tu bhi wohi,
Phir yeh aazurdagi-e-ghair-sabab kya maani,
Apne shaidaaon pe yeh chashm-e-ghazab kya maani?
Ishq ki khair, who pehli si ada bhi na sahi,
Jaada paimaai taslim-o-raza bhi na sahi,
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Kabhi hum se, kabhi ghairon se shanasaai hai,
Baat kahne ki nahin, tu bhi tau harjaai hai.
Ahd-e-gul khatam hua, tut gaya saaz-e-chaman,
Ur gaye dalion se zamzama pardaaz-e-chaman.
Ek bulbul hai ke hai mahw-e-tarannum ab tak,
Us ke seene mein hai naghmon ka talatam ab tak.
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Qumrian shaakh-e-sanober se gurezaan bhi huin,
Pattian phool ki jhar jhar ke pareshan bhi huin;
Who purani ravishen bagh ki weeran bhi huin,
Daalian parahan-e-barg se uriaan bhi huin.
Qaid-e-mausim se tabiat rahi aazad uski,
Kaash gulshan mein samjhta koi faryaad uski.
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Chaak is bulbul-e-tanha ki nawa se dil hon,
Jaagne wale isi baang-e-dara se dil hon.
Yaani phir zinda naye ahd-e-wafa se dil hon,
Phir isi bada-e-deereena ke pyaase dil hon.
Ajmy khum hai tau kya, mai tau Hejaazi hai miri,
Naghma Hindi hai tau tya, lai tau Hejaazi hai miri
Shikwa or Complaint [to God]
Translation by an anonymous person:
Why should I abet the loss, why forget the gain,
Why forfeit the future, bemoan the past in vain?
Hear the wail of nightingale, and remain unstirred,
Am I a flower insensate that will not say a word?
The power of speech emboldens me to speak out my heart,
I’ll sure be damned, I know, if fault my God.
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Hear, O Lord, from the faithful ones this sad lament,
From those used to hymn a praise, a word of discontent.
Eternally were you present, Lord, eternally omniscient,
The flower hung upon the tree, but without incense.
Be Thou fair, tell us true, O fountainhead of grace,
How could the scent spread without the breeze apace?
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The world presented a queer sight ere we took the stage,
Stones and plants in your stead were worshipped in that age.
Man, being inured to senses, couldn’t accept a thing unseen,
How could a formless God impress his senses keen?
Tell me, Lord, if anyone ever invoked Thy name,
The strength of Muslim arm alone restored Thy fame.
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There was no dearth of peoples on this earth before,
Turkish tribes and Persian clans lived in days of yore;
The Greeks and the Chinese both bred and throve,
Christians as well as the Jews on this planet roved.
But who in Thy holy name raised his valiant sword,
Who set the things right, resolved the rigmarole?
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We were the warrior bands battling for Thy cause,
Now on land, now on water, we the crusades fought.
Now in Europe’s synods did we loudly pray,
Now in African deserts made a bold foray.
Not for territorial greed did we wield the sword,
Not for pelf and power did we suffer the blows.
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Had we been temped by the greed of glittering gold,
Instead of breaking idols, would have idols sold.
We impressed on every heart the oneness of our mighty Lord,
Even under the threat of sword, bold and clever was our call.
Who conquered, tell us Thou, the fearful Khyber pass?
Who vanquished the Imperial Rome, who made it fall?
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Who broke the idols of the primitive folks?
Who fought the kefirs, massacred their hordes?
If the prayer time arrived right amid the war,
With their faces turned to Kaaba, knelt down the brave Hejaz.
Mahmud and Ayaz stood together in the same flank,
The ruler and the ruled forget the difference in their rank.
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The rich and poor, Lord and slave, all were leveled down,
All became brethren in love, with Thy grace crowned.
We roamed the world through, visited every place,
Did our rounds like the cup, serving sacred ale.
Forget about the forests, we spared not the seas,
Into the dark, unfathomed ocean, we pushed our steeds.
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We removed falsehood from the earth’s face,
We broke the shackles of the human race.
We reclaimed your Kaaba with our kneeling brows,
We pressed the sacred Quran to our heart and soul.
Even then you grumble, we are false, untrue,
If you call us faithless, tell us what are you?
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You reserve your favours for men of other shades,
While you hurl your bolts on the Muslim race.
This is not our complaint that such alone are blessed,
Who do not know the etiquette, nor even can converse.
The tragedy is while kefirs are with houries actually blest,
On vague hopes of houries in heaven the Muslim race is made to rest!
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Poverty, taunts, ignominy stare us in the face,
Is humiliation the sole reward of our suffering race?
To perpetuate Thy name is our sole concern,
Deprived of the saqi’s aid can the cup revolve and turn?
Gone is your assemblage, off your lovers have sailed,
The midnight sights are no more heard, nor the morning wails;
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They pledged their hearts to you, what is their return?
Hardly had they stepped inside, when they were externed
Thy lovers came and went away, fed on hopes of future grace,
Search them now with the lamp of your glowing face.
Unassuaged is Laila’s ache, unquenched is Qais’s thirst,
In the wilderness of Nejd, the wild deer are still berserk.
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The same passion thrills the hearts, enchanting still is beauty’s gaze,
You are the same as before, same too is the Prophet’s race.
Why then this indifference, without a cause or fault?
Why with your threatening looks dost thou break our heart?
Accepted that the flame of love burneth low and dim,
We do not, as in your, dance attendance on your whims;
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But you too, pardon us, possess a coquettish heart,
Now on us, now on others, alight your amorous darts.
The spring has now taken leave, broken lies the lyre string,
The birds that chirped among the leaves have also taken wing;
A single nightingale is left singing on the tree,
A flood of song in her breast is longing for release.
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From atop the firs and pines the doves have flown away,
The floral petals lie scattered all along the way.
Desolate lie the garden paths, once dressed and neat,
Leafless hang the branches on the naked trees.
The nightingale is unconcerned with the season’s range,
Would that someone in the grove appreciates her wail.
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May the nightingale’s wail pierce the listeners’ hearts,
May the clinking caravan awaken slumbering thoughts!
Let the hearts pledge anew their faith to you, O Lord,
Let’s re-charge our cups from the taverns of the past.
Though I hold a Persian cup, the wine is pure Hejaz,
Though I sing an Indian song, the turn is of the Arabian cast.
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Jawab-e-Shikwa [God’s Answer] by Allama Iqbal – Roman Urdu
Dil se jo baat nikalti hai, asar rakhti hai,
Par nahin, taaqat-e-parwaaz magsr rakhti hai.
Qudsi-ul-asal hai, rif-atpe nazar rakhti hai,
Khaak se uthti hai, gardoon pe guzar rakhti hai.
Ishq tha fitna gar-o-sarkash-o-chalaak mira,
Aasman cheer gaya nala-e-bebaak mira.
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Pir-e-gardoon ne kaha sun ke, kahin hai koi!
Bole sayyaare, sar-e-arsh-e-barin hai koi!
Chaand kahta tha, nahin, ahl-e-zamin hai koi!
Kahkashaan kahti thi, poshida yahin hai koi!
Kuchh jo samjha tau mere shikwe ko Ruzwan samjha,
Mujhe jannat se nikala hua insaan samjha.
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Thi farishton ko bhi hairat, ke yeh aawaaz hai kya!
Arsh waalon pe bhi khulta nahin yeh raaz hai kya!
Taa sar-e-arsh bhi insaan ki tag-o-taaz hai kya?
Aa gai khak ki chutki ko bhi parwaaz hai kya?
Ghaafil aadaab se yeh sukkaam-e-zamin kaise hain,
Shokh-o-gustaakh yeh pasti ke makin kaise hain,
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Is qadar shokh ke Allah se bhi barham hai,
Tha jo masjud-e-malaik yeh wohi Aadam hai?
Aalam-e kaif hai, dana-e-ramuz-e-kam hai,
Haan, magar ijaz ke asrar se namahram hai.
Naaz hai taaqat-e-guftaar pe insaanon ko,
Baat karne ka saliqa nahin nadaanon ko!
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Aai aawaaz ghum-angez hai afsana tira,
Ashk-e-betaab se labrezhai paimana tira.
Shukr shikwe ko kiya husn-e-ada se tu ne,
Hum sakhun kar diyabandon ko khuda se tu ne.
Hum tau mayal ba-karam hai, koi sayal hi nahin,
Rah dikhlain kise rahraw-e-manzil hi nahin.
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Tarbiat aam tau hai, jauhar-e-qabil hi nahin,
Jis se taamir ho aadam ki yeh who gil hi nahin.
Koi qabil ho tau hum shan-e-kai dete hain;
Dhoondne waalon ko duniya bhi nai dete hain!
Haath be-zor hain, ilhaad se dil khoo-gar hain,
Ummati baais-e-ruswai-e-paighamber hain.
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But-shikan uth gaye, baaqi jo rahe but-gar hain,
Tha Brahim pidar, aur pisar Aazar hain.
Bada aasham naye baaqi naya khum bhi naye,
Harm-e-Kaaba naya, but bhi naye, tum bhi naye.
Who bhi din the ke yehi maya-e-raanai tha,
Naazish-e-mausim-e-gul lala-e-sahraai tha!
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Jo Musalmaan tha Allah ka saudai tha,
Kabhi mehboob tumhara yehi harjaai tha.
Safah-e-dahar se baatil ko mitaya kis ne?
Nau-e-insaan ko ghulami se chhuraya kis ne?
Mere Kaabe ko jabeenon se basaya kis ne?
Mere Quran ko seenon se lagaya kis ne?
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The tau aaba who tumhaare hi, magar tum kya ho?
Haath par haath dhare muntezir-e-farda ho!
Kya kaha? “bahr-e-musalmaan hai faqt waade-e-hur,”
Shikwa beja bhi kare koi tau laazim hai shaoor!
Adal hai faatir-e-hasti ka azal se dastur,
Muslim aaeen hua kafir tau mile hur-o-qasur;
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Tum mein hooron ka koichahne wala hi nahin,
Jalwa-e-tur tau maujood hai, Moosa hi nahin.
Munfait ek hai is qaum ki, nuqsaan bhi ek,
Ek hi sab ka nabi, din bhi, imaan bhi ek,
Harm-e-paak bhi, Allah bhi, Quran bhi ek,
Kuchh bari baat thi hote jo musalmaan bhi ek!
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Firqa bandi hai kahin, aur kahin zaaten hain.
Kya zamane mein panpaneki yehi baaten hain?
Jaa ke hote hain masaajid mein saf-aara tau gharib,
Zahmat-e-roza jo karte hain gawara tau gharib.
Naam leta hai agar koi hamara, tau gharib,
Pardah rakhta hao agar koi tumhara, tau gharib.
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Umra nasha-e-daulat mein hain ghafil hum se,
Zinda hai millat-e-baiza ghurba ke dam se.
Shor hai ho gaye duniya se musalmaan naabood,
Hum yeh kahte hain ke the bhi kahin Muslim maujood?
Waza mein tum ho nisari, tau tamuddan mein Hanood,
Yeh musalmaan hain! Jinhen dekh ke sharmain Yahud?
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Baap ka ilm na bete ko agar azbar ho,
Phir pisar qabil-e-miraas-e-pidar kyonkar ho!
Har koi mast-e-mai-e-zauq-e-tan aasaani hai,
Tum musalmaan ho? Yeh andaaz-e-musalmaani hai?
Chaahte sab hain ke hon auj-e-surayya pe muqeem,
Pahle waisa koi paida tau kare qalb-e-salim!
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Ahd-e-nau barq hai, aatish zan-e-har khirman hai,
Aiman is se koi sahra no koi gulshan hai.
Is nai aag ka aqwaam-e-kuhan eendhan hai,
Millat-e-khatam-e-rasal shoula ba parahan hai.
Dekh kar range-e-chaman ho na pareshan maali,
Kookab-e-ghuncha se shaakhen hain chamakne wali,
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Khas-o-khashaak se hota hai gulistan khaali,
Gul bar andaaz hai khun-e-shuhda ki laali.
Rang gardoon ka zara dekh tau unnabi hai,
Yeh nikalte hue suraj ki ufaq taabi hai.
Nakhl-e-Islam namoona hai bro-mandi ka,
Phal hai yeh sainkron saalon ki chaman bandi ka.
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Qaafila ho na sakega kabhi weeran tera,
Ghair yak baang-e-dara kuchh nahin samaan tera.
Nakhl-e-shama asti-o-dar should dood resha-e-tu,
Aaqbat soz bood saya-e-andesha-e-tu.
Ki Mohammed se wafa tu ne tau hum tere hain,
Yeh jahan cheez hai kya, lauh-eo-qalam tere hain.
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Jawab-e-Shikwa: [God’s] Answer to the Complaint
Translation by an anonymous person:
The word springing from the heart surely carries weight,
Though not endowed with wings, it yet can fly in space.
Pure and spiritual in its essence, it pegs its gaze on high,
Rising from the lowly dust, grazes past the skies.
Keen, defiant, and querulous was my passion crazed,
It pierced through the skies, my audacious wail.
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“Someone is there,” thus spoke the heaven’s warder old,
the planets said, “From above proceeds this voice so bold.”
“No, no,” the moon said,” “tis someone on the earth below,”
Butted in the milky way: “The voice is hereabouts, I trow.”
Ruzwan alone, if at all, understood aright,
He knew it was the man, from heaven once exiled.
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Even the angles wondered who raised this cry,
All the celestial denizens looked about surprised.
Does man possess the might to scale empyreal heights?
Has this mere pinch of dust learnt the knack to fly?
What are these earthly folks? Careless of all respect,
How bold and impudent, the lowly dwellers of the earth!
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Extremely rude and insolent, cross even with God,
Is it the same Adam whom angels once did laud?
Steeped in bliss, man is of wisdom’s lore possessed,
Nonetheless, he’s alien to humility’s sterling worth.
Man feels proud of the power of his speech,
But the fool doesn’t know how and what to speak.
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You narrate a woeful tale, thus the voice arose,
Your heart is boiling over with tears uncontrolled.
You have delivered your plaint with perfect skill and art,
You have brought the humans in contact with God.
We are inclined to grant, but none deserves our grace,
None treads the righteous path, whom to show the way?
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Our school is open to all, but talent there is none,
Where is that soil fertile to breed the human gems?
We reward the deserving folks with splendid meed,
We grant newer worlds to those who strive and seek.
Arms have been drained of strength, hearts have gone astray,
The Muslim race is a blot on the Prophet’s face.
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Idol-breakers have left the scene, idol-makers remain,
Aazar has inherited Abraham’s glorious name.
Wine, flask, and drinkers-all are new and changed,
A different Kaaba, different idols now your worship claim.
There was a time when you were respected far and wide,
Once this desert bloom was the season’s wealth and pride.
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Every Muslim then was a lover profound of God,
Your sole beloved once was the all-embracing Lord.
Who removed falsehood from the earth’s face?
Who broke the shackles of the human race?
Who reclaimed our Kaaba with their kneeling brows?
Who presses the sacred Quran to their heart and soul?
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True, they were your forbears, but what are you, I say?
Idle sitting, statue-like you dream away your days.
What did you say? Muslims are with hopes of houries consoled,
Even if your plaint is false, your words should be controlled.
Justice is the law supreme, operative on this globe,
Muslims can’t expect the houries, if they follow the kefir’s code.
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None of you, in fact, is deserving of the” hoor”,
A Moses is but hard to fin, burneth still the Tur.
Common to the race entire is their gain or loss,
Common is their faith and creed, common too the Rasul of God;
One Kaaba, one Allah, and one Quran inspire their heart,
Why can’t the Muslims then behave like a single lot?
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Cast, creed and factions have disjointed this race,
Is this way to forge ahead, to flourish in the present age?
It’s the poor who visit the mosque, join the kneeling rows,
The poor alone observe the fasts, practice self-control.
If someone repeats our name, it’s the poor again,
The devout poor hide your sins, preserve your vaunted name.
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Drunk with the wine of wealth, the rich are unconcerned with God,
The Muslim race owes its life to the poor, indigent lot.
“Muslims have vanished from earth,” this is what we hear,
but we ask, ” Were the Muslims ever the Jewish sects.
You are Nisars by your looks, but Hindus by conduct,
Your culture puts to shame even the Jewish sects.
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If the son is alien to his learned father’s traits,
How can he then claim his father’s heritage?
All of you love to lead a soft, luxurious life,
Are you a Muslim indeed? Is this the Muslim style?
All of you desire to be invested with the crown,
You should first produce a heart worthy of renown.
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The new age is the lighting blast, it will set your barns on fire,
It can’t produce in groves or deserts the Old Sinai’s burning spire.
The new fire consumes for fuel the blood of nations old,
The clothes of the Prophet’s race are incinerated in its folds.
Don’t be depressed, gardener, by the present scene,
The starry buds are about to burst with a brilliant sheen.
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The garden will soon be rid of its thorns and weeds,
The martyr’s blood will bring to bloom all the dormant seeds.
Mark how the sky reflects its orange purple hues,
The rising sun will flush the sky with its rays anew.
Islamic tree exemplifies cultivation long and hard,
A fruit of arduous gardening over centuries past.
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Your caravan needn’t fear the perils of the path,
But for the call of bells you own no wealth at all.
You are the plant of light, the burning wick that never fails,
With the power of your thought you can incinerate the veil.
We’ll love you as our own, if you follow the Prophet’s ways,
The world is but a paltry thing, you’ll command the pen and page.
Asghar Vasanwala can be reached at asgharfv@gmail.com