Payam-e Mashriq by Allama Iqbal, in translations by M. Hadi Husain

The Wisdom of the West

بخش 33–حکمت فرنگ

God’s Country

بخش 36–الملک للہ

Alamgir’s Letter

بخش 38–نامهٔ عالمگیر (به یکی از فرزندانش که دعای مرگ پدر میکرد)

Paradise

بخش 39–بهشت

Kashmir

بخش 40–کشمیر

Love

بخش 41–عشق

Humanity

بخش 42–بندگی

Slavery

بخش 43–غلامی

The Riddle of the Sword

بخش 44–چیستان شمشیر

Democracy

بخش 45–جمهوریت

To a Muslim Missionary in England

بخش 46–به مبلغ اسلام در فرنگستان

Ghani Kashmiri

بخش 47–غنی کشمیری

Lines Addressed to Mustafa Kamal Pasha

بخش 48–خطاب به مصطفی کمال پاشا ایده الله

The Aeroplane

بخش 49–طیاره

Love

بخش 50–عشق

Civilization

بخش 51–تهذیب

غزل شمارهٔ 1–بهار تا به گلستان کشید بزم سرود

When spring made of the garden a veritable concert hall, the nightingale’s impassioned songs made buds open their eyes.

غزل شمارهٔ 2–حلقه بستند سر تربت من نوحه کران

Around my grave atood in a ring a bevy of fair mourners, all comely, winsome, lily-white.

غزل شمارهٔ 3–می تراشد فکر ما هر دم خداوندی دگر

Our thought is constantly engaged in fashioning new gods. Released from one bond, it entangles itself in another.

غزل شمارهٔ 4–مرا ز دیدهٔ بینا شکایت دگر است

I have this odd complaint against my seeing eyes: When You unveil Yourself, my sight acts as a veil.

غزل شمارهٔ 5–به این بهانه درین بزم محرمی جویم

This is my way of finding in this company a confidant: I sing ghazals and through them I convey the message of my Friend.

غزل شمارهٔ 6–خیز و نقاب بر گشا پردگیان ساز را

Arise and waken notes aslumber in the organ’s keys. Teach singing birds fresh tunes.

غزل شمارهٔ 7–به ملازمان سلطان خبری دهم ز رازی

Let me tell a secret to the servants of the king: You can make the whole world yours with a moving song.

غزل شمارهٔ 8–بیا که ساقی گلچهره دست بر چنگ است

Come, for a saki with a rose-like face is playing on a lute. The air of spring has made the garden look as if it were a painting from Arzhang.

غزل شمارهٔ 9–صورت نپرستم من بتخانه شکستم من

I never worshipped forms; I broke the idol house. I am a rushing flood, which bursts all bounds.

غزل شمارهٔ 10–هوای فرودین در گلستان میخانه می‌سازد

The breeze of spring makes of the garden a wine-tavern. It casts buds into jar-shapes, and makes of flowers cups.

غزل شمارهٔ 11–از ما بگو سلامی آن ترک تند خو را

Convey my salutation to that fire-eating Turk who set aflame with one glance a city full of longing.

غزل شمارهٔ 12–آشنا هر خار را از قصهٔ ما ساختی

You have made every thorn prick us and know our tale. You took us to the wilderness of madness, and let everybody know.

غزل شمارهٔ 13–خوش آنکه رخت خرد را به شعله‌ای می سوخت

Happy the man who burned with flames of wine his intellectual goods. He gained a new thing from the flames, rich like the tulip’s fiery hue.

غزل شمارهٔ 14–بیار باده که گردون بکام ما گردید

Fetch wine, for the heavens have turned in our favour. Songs are germinating like buds from the branches.

غزل شمارهٔ 15–تیر و سنان و خنجر و شمشیرم آرزوست

I long for manly weapons – bow, dagger, spear and sword. O, do not come with me, for mine is Shabbir’s way.

غزل شمارهٔ 16–دانهٔ سبحه به زنار کشیدن آموز

Learn how to put a rosary bead on the sacred thread, and if your eyes see double, then learn how not to see.

غزل شمارهٔ 17–ز خاک خویش طلب آتشی که پیدا نیست

From your own dust elicit the fire that is not yet aflame. It is not worthwhile borrowing the radiance of others.

غزل شمارهٔ 18–موج را از سینهٔ دریا گسستن می‌توان

A wave can well be severed from the bosom of the sea, and you can well enclose the boundless sea within the channel of your private stream.

غزل شمارهٔ 19–صد نالهٔ شبگیری صد صبح بلا خیزی

A hundred nights of wailing, a hundred mornings of travail, a hundred fire-emitting sighs: The product? One poignant verse.

غزل شمارهٔ 20–باز به سرمه تاب ده چشم کرشمه زای را

Let surma brighten once again your magic-working eyes, and let my frenzied urge to sing about them be intensified.

غزل شمارهٔ 21–فریب کشمکش عقل دیدنی دارد

The intellect’s deceitfulness is worthy of remark: It is the leader of the caravan, yet fond of highway robbery.

غزل شمارهٔ 22–حسرت جلوهٔ آن ماه تمامی دارم

O I long for a sight of that full moon. So I stand hand on heart, eyes fixed on a house-top.

غزل شمارهٔ 23–به شاخ زندگی ما نمی ز تشنه لبی است

The sap in the tree of our life comes from our thirst. To seek the spring of immortality is to be unadventurous.

غزل شمارهٔ 24–فرقی ننهد عاشق در کعبه و بتخانه

A true lover does not differentiate between the Ka‘bah and the idol-house. The one is the Beloved’s privacy, the other His appearing publicly.

غزل شمارهٔ 25–بی تو از خواب عدم دیده گشودن نتوان

There is no waking up without You from non-being’s sleep, no being without You, no non-being with You.

غزل شمارهٔ 26–این گنبد مینائی این پستی و بالائی

This azure sky, all that is high, all that is low, for all its vastness, is encompassed in the lover’s heart.

غزل شمارهٔ 27–هوس منزل لیلی نه تو داری و نه من

Lines Addressed To a Sufi: Neither have I nor you the wish to go to Layla’s house. Neither have I nor you the heart to bear the desert heat.

غزل شمارهٔ 28–دلیل منزل شوقم به دامنم آویز

I am a guidepost to the goal of heart’s desire. Adhere to me. Mix with your dust a spark of my pure fire.

غزل شمارهٔ 29–در جهان دل ما دور قمر پیدا نیست

In the world of our heart there are no phases of the moon. There is a revolution, but no morning and no evening.

غزل شمارهٔ 30–گریهٔ ما بی اثر ناله ما نارساست

Our wailing is without effect, and fruitless are our cries. The gain from all this ardency: A heart whose songs are steeped in blood.

غزل شمارهٔ 31–سوز سخن ز نالهٔ مستانهٔ دل است

The fervent quality of verse comes from the heart’s ecstatic cry. This candle is alight thanks to the heart, which is its moth.

غزل شمارهٔ 32–سطوت از کوه ستانند و بکاهی بخشند

The majesty is snatched away from mountains and bestowed on leaves of grass. A royal crown is put on the head of a roadside beggar.

غزل شمارهٔ 33–نه تو اندر حرم گنجی نه در بتخانه می‌آیی

You cannot fit into the Harem, nor into the idol-house. But O how eagerly you come to those who seek you eagerly.

غزل شمارهٔ 34–تب و تاب بتکدهٔ عجم نرسد به سوز و گداز من

The animation in the idol-temple of ‘Ajam does not match the great ardour of my heart, for with one glance Muhammad of Arabia has conquered the Hijaz that is in me.