رموزِ بیخودی (اقبال) عرض حال مصنف بحضور رحمة للعالمین The authors memorial to Him who is a mercy to all living beings O THOU, whose manifesting was the youth Of strenuous life, whose bright epiphany Told the interpretation of liefs dreams, Earth attained honour, having held thy court, And heaven glory, having kissed thy roof. Thy face illumes the six-directioned world; Turk, Tajik, Arab all thy servants are. Whatever things have being, find in thee True exaltation, and thy poverty Is their abundant riches. In this world Thou litst the lamp of life, as thou didst teach Gods servitors a godly mastery. Without thee, whatsoever form indwelt This habitat of water and of clay Was put to shame in utter bankruptcy; Till, when thy breath drew fire from the cold dust And Adam made of earths dead particles, Each atom caught the skirts of sun and moon, Suddenly conscious of its inward strength. Since first my gaze alighted on thy face Dearer than father and dear mother thou Art grown to me. Thy love hath lit a flame Within my heart; ah, let it work at ease. For all my spirit is consumed in me, And my sole chattel is a reed like sigh, The lantern flickering in my ruined house. It is not possible not to declare This hidden grief; it is not possible To veil the wine in the translucent cup. But now the Muslim is estranged a new Unto the Prophets secret; now once more Gods sanctuary is an idols shrine; Manat and Lat, Hubal and Uzzae/ach118 Carries an idol to his bosom clasped; Our sheikh no Brahman is so infidel, Seeking his somnath stands within his head.119 Arabia deserted, he is gone With all his beings baggage, slumberous To drowse in Persia wine- vault. Persias sleet Has set his limbs a-shiver; his thin wine Rune colder than his tears. As timorous Of death as any infidel, his breast Is hollow, empty of a living heart. I bore him lifeless from the doctors hands And brought him to the Prophets presence; dead He was; I told him of the Fount of Life; I spoke with him upon a mystery O the Koran, a tale of the Beloved120 Of Nejd; I brought to him a perfume sweet Pressed from the roses of Arabia. The Candle of my music lit the throng; I taught the people lifes enigma; still He cried against me, These are Europes spells: He weaves to bind us with, the psaltery Of Europe that he strikes into our ears. O thou, that to Busiri gavest a Cloak121 And to my fingers yielded Salmas lute,122 Grant now to him, whose thoughts are so astray That he can no more recognize his own, Perception of the truth, and joy therin. Be lusterless the mirror of my heart, Or be my words by aught but the Koran Informed, O thou whose splendour is the dawn Of every age and time, whose vision sees All that is in mens breasts, rend now the veil Of my thoughts shame; sweep clean the avenue Of my offending thorns; choke in my breast The narrow breath of life; thy people guard Against the mischief of my wickedness; Nurse not to verdure my untimely seed, Grant me no portion of springs fecund showers, Wither the vintage in my swelling grapes And scatter poison in my sparkling wine; Disgrace me on the Day of Reckoning, Too abject to embrace thy holy feet. But if I ever threaded on my chain The pearl of the Korans sweet mysteries, I to the Muslims I have spoken true, O thou whose bounty raises the obscure Unto significance, one prayer from thee Is ample guerdon for my words, desert; Plead thou to God my cause, and let my love Be locked in the embrace of godly deeds. Thou hast accorded me a contrite soul, A part of holy learning; stablish me Show Less >>