(Yourap Mein LikheGye)
(Written in Europe)
Zamistānīhavāmeñgarchethīshamshīrkītezī
Na chhūTemujh se London meñbhīādāb-e-sahar-ḳhezī
At London, winter wind, like sword, was biting though,
My wont to rise at early morn I didn’t forego.
Kahīñsarmāya-e-mahfilthīmerīgarm-guftārī
Kahīñsab ko pareshāñkargaīmerīkam-āmezī
At times my heated talk to gathering pleasure lent;
My holding ’loof at times perplexed them all, I trow.
Zamām-e-kār agar mazdūrkehāthoñmeñhophirkyā
Tarīq-e-koh-kanmeñbhīvahīhiilehaiñparvezī
No hope for change is there, if workers rule the land,
For those who hew the rocks, like Parvez tricks do know.
Jalāl-e-pādshāhīho ki jamhūrītamāshāho
Judāhodiiñsiyāsat se to rah jaatīhaichañgezī
Statecraft divorced from Faith to reign of terror leads,
Though it be a monarch’s rule or Commoners’ Show.
Savād-e-raumat-ul-kubrāmeñdillīyaadaatīhai
Vahīibratvahīazmatvahīshān-e-dil-āvezī
The streets of Rome remind of Delhi’s glorious past,
The lesson same and charm are writ upon its brow.
Bal-e-Jibril-038
Ye dair-e-kuhankyāhaiambār-e-ḳhas-o-ḳhāshāk
Mushkilhaiguzar is meñ be-nāla-e-ātishnāk
The ancient fane in which we live has heaps of thorns at every turn;
Too hard to cross it safe and sound without the aid of sighs that burn.
Naḳhchīr-e-mohabbatkāqissanahīñtūlānī
Lutf-e-ḳhalish-e-paikāñāsūdgi-e-fitrāk
The tale of quarry shot by Love is simple, brief and not too long:
The victim feels the joy of prick and then the rest of saddle thong.
Khoyāgayā jo matlabhaftād o do millatmeñ
Samjhegāna tū jab tak be-rañg na hoidrāk
The sterling truth to Muslim taught, in feuds of different sects is lost;
How can you catch this truth again, with bias if your mind be fraught?
Ikshar-e-musalmānīikjazb-e-musalmānī
Hai jazb-e-musalmānīsirr-e-falak-ul-aflāk
One is the outward form of faith, the other its spirit deep and true:
He, who quaffs its spirits deep, brings secrets hidden to his view.
Ai rahrav-e-farzāna be-jazb-e-musalmānī
Ne rāh-e-amalpaidā ne shāḳh-e-yaqīñnamnāk
O pilgrim wise, If passion strong for faith you lack,
The bough of faith shall whither fast, Obscure and dim become the path.
Ramzīñhaiñmohabbatkīgustāḳhī o bebākī
Har shauqnahīñgustāḳhharjazbnahīñbebāk
Courage and valour are the signs by which the state of Love is known:
Not every zeal is pert and rude, nor daring by ev’ry person shown.
Fāriġhto na baiThegāmahsharmeñjunūñmerā
Yāapnāgarebāñchaakyādāman-e-yazdāñchaak
On the Day of Judgement too my frenzy will not let me rest:
With Mighty God I shall contend or rend to fragments my own vest.
(Source: https://iqbalurdu.blogspot.com)