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Gabriel’s Wing |
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| Arise in order that we may make the order of the sun’s... | | The heart of a diamond can be cut by the leaf of a flower; | | My epiphany of passion causes commotion in the precinct of... | | All potent wine is emptied of Thy cask; | | If the stars have strayed—To whom do the heavens belong,... | | Bright are Your tresses: brighten them even more: | | Make our hearts the seats of mercy and love, | | Whether or not it moves you, at least listen to my... | | Give to the youth my sighs of dawn; | | What avails love when life is so ephemeral? | | My scattered dust charged with Love The shape of heart may... | | Thy world the fish’s and the winged thing’s bower; | | Contrary runs our planet, the stars whirl fast, oh Saki! | | Due to Thy benevolence, I am not without merit, | | Set out once more that cup, that wine, oh Saki— | | He is the essence of the Space as well as the Placeless... | | My Saki made me drink the wine of There is no god but He: | | At times, Love is a wanderer who has no home, | | Slow fire of longing—wealth beyond compare; | | Love, sometimes, is the solitude of Nature; | | Have You forgotten then my heart of old, | | Grant me the absorption of the souls of the past, | | By dint of Spring the poppy-cup, with vintage red is... | | I learnt from Abul Hasan: | | Mine ill luck the same and same, O Lord, the coldness on... | | This reason of mine knows not good from evil; | | Methought my racing field lay under the skies, | | To be God is to have charge of land and sea; | | Reason is either luminous, or it seeks proofs; | | This Adam—is he the sovereign of land and sea? | | Lovely, oh Lord, this fleeting world; but why | | All Nature’s vastness cannot contain you, oh | | Who is this composer of ghazals, who is burningly... | | The breath of Gabriel if God on me bestow, | | Fabric of earth and wind and wave! Who is the secret, you... | | Thou art yet region-bound, transcend the limits of space; | | The free by dint of faqr Life’s secrets can disclose: | | Hill and vale once more under the poppy’s lamps are... | | Muslims are born with a gift to charm, to persuade; | | Through Love the song of Life Begets its rhythmic flow: | | Of passion’s glow your heart is blank, Your glances are... | | A host of peril though you face, Yet your tongue with... | | Rely on the witness of the phenomenal world | | These Western nymphs A challenge to the eye and the heart, | | A heart awake to man imparts Umar’s brains and Hyder’s... | | In the coquetry and fierceness of the self there is no... | | A recreant captain, a battle-line thrown back, | | At London, winter wind, like sword, was biting though, | | The ancient fane in which we live Has heaps of thorns at... | | The way to renounce is To conquer the earth and heaven; | | Though reason to the portal guide, | | The self of man is ocean vast, And knows no depth or bound: | | The morning breeze has whispered to me a secret, | | Thy vision and thy hands are chained, earth-bound, | | The mind can give you naught, But what with doubt is... | | The splendour of a monarch great Is worthless for the free... | | You are neither for the earth nor for the heaven: | | O Prisoner of Space! You are not far from the Placeless... | | My mind on me bestowed a thinker’s gaze, | | From the heavens comes an answer to our long cries at last: | | All life is voyaging, all life in motion, | | Every atom pants for glory: greed | | This wonder by some glance is wrought, or Fortune’s... | | What should I ask the sages about my origin: | | When through the Love man conscious grows of respect... | | Once more I feel the urge to wail and weep at dead of night: | | Devoid of passion’s roar I can exist no more: | | Nature before your mind present, | | Alas! The mullah and the priest, conduct their sermons so | | The magic old to life is brought by means of present... | | Other worlds exist beyond the stars— | | The West seeks to make life a perpetual feast; | | If self with knowledge strong becomes, Gabriel it can... | | The schools bestow no grace of fancy fine, | | Events as yet folded in the scroll of Time | | To Lover’s glowing fire and flame the mystic order has... | | Intuition in the West was clever in its power, | | O manly heart, the goal you seek is hard to gain like gem... | | A monarch’s pomp and mighty arms can never give such glee, | | On me no subtle brain though Nature spent, | | By men whose eyes see far and wide new cities shall be... | | To God the angels did complain 'Gainst Iqbal and did say | | Over the tussle of heart and head | | Arise! The bugle calls! It is time to leave! | | The Gnostic and the common throng new life have gained... | | Through many a stage the crescent goes and then at last... | | In the maze of eve and morn, o man awake, do not be lost: | | The cloisters, once the rearing place of daring men and... | | From Salman, singer sweet, this subtle point I know: | | The crown, the throne, and mighty arms by faqr are wrought... | | In my craze that knows no bound, of the Mosque I made the... | | Knowledge and reason work in manner strange, | | The rituals of the Sanctuary unsanctified! | | O wave! Plunge headlong into the dark seas, | | Am I bound by space, or beyond space? | | Confused is the nature of my love for Thee, | | I was in the solitude of selfhood lost, | | Faith, like Abraham, sits down in the fire; | | Arabian fervour has within it the Persian melodies, | | A restless heart throbs in every atom; | | I wish someone saw how I play the flute— | | Thy vision is not lofty, ethereal, | | Neither the Muslim nor his power survives; | | Distracted are thy eyes in myriad ways; | | Selfhood in the world of men is prophethood; | | The beauty of mystic love is shaped in song; | | Where is the moving spirit of my life? | | Thy bosom has breath; it does not have a heart; | | I am not a pursuer, nor a traveller, | | Pure in nature thou art, thy nature is light; | | They no longer have that passionate love— | | Not translated yet | | Dew-drops glisten on flowers that bloom in the spring; | | Conquer the world with the power of selfhood, | | A Prayer | | The mystic's soul is like the morning breeze: | | The Mosque of Cordoba | | Mu‘tamid’s Lament In Prison | | First Date Tree Seeded By Abdul Rahman the First | | That blood of pristine vigour is no more; | | Spain | | The veiled secrets are becoming manifest— | | Tariq’s Prayer | | This revolution of time is eternal; | | Lenin | | Song of the Angles | | God’s Command | | Theorizing is the infidelity of the self: | | Ecstasy | | The Moth and the Firefly | | To Javid | | Mendicancy | | Heaven and the Priest | | Church and State | | The Earth is God's | | To a Young Man | | Counsel | | Poppy of the Wilderness | | Iqbal recited once in a garden in Spring | | Sakinama | | Time | | The Angels Bid Farewell to Adam | | Adam Is Received By the Spirit of the Earth | | My nature is like the fresh breeze of morn: | | The Mentor and The Disciple | | Thy body knows not the secrets of thy heart, | | Gabriel And Iblis | | The mentor exhorted his disciples once: | | The Prayer-call | | Though I have little of rhetorician’s art, | | Love | | The Star’s Message | | To Javid | | Philosophy and Religion | | A Letter from Europe | | At Napoleon’s Tomb | | Mussolini | | A Question | | To the Punjab Peasant | | Nadir Shah of Afghanistan | | The Last Testament of Khush-hal Khan Khattak | | The Tartar's Dream | | Worlds Apart | | Abu al ‘Ala al-Ma‘arri | | Cinema | | To the Punjab Pirs | | Politics | | Faqr | | The Self | | Separation | | Monastery | | Satan’s Petition | | Blood | | Flight | | To the Headmaster | | The Philosopher | | The Eagle | | Disciples in Revolt | | The Last Will of Harun Rashid | | To the Psychologist | | Europe | | Freedom of Thought | | The Lion and the Mule | | The Ant and the Eagle |
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چیونٹی اورعقاب | چیونٹی
مَیں پائمال و خوار و پریشان و دردمند
تیرا مقام کیوں ہے ستاروں سے بھی بلند؟ | عقاب
تُو رِزق اپنا ڈھُونڈتی ہے خاکِ راہ میں
مَیں نُہ سِپِہر کو نہیں لاتا نگاہ میں! |
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