Recitation of poetry is deeply regarded for expressing your true feelings. It has been observed that Urdu poets in the past used to say poetry that depicts the social, cultural surroundings of their era. Last Updated on Sunday, October 14 2018 ... Read more

Iqbal In Masjid-E-Qartaba | Urdu Poetry

Poet : allama-iqbal
Iqbal In Masjid-E-Qartaba
Chain of days and nights-artificer of all events
Chain of days and nights –fountain of life and of death

Chain of days and nights=thread of two-colored silk
Of which the Being makes the robe of His Attributes

Chain of days and nights-sigh of eternity’s music
Where He of all possibility sounds the height and depth

Thee it puts to test and me it puts to test
Day and night in procession, testers of all this world

If thou art of less value and it I am of less value
Find in death our reward and in dissolution our wage

Of your day and night what other meaning but this
One long current time, devoid of dawn and sunset?

All those masterpieces of Art, transitory and impermanent
All in this world is of sand, all in this world is of sand

Death the beginning and end, death to the visible and hidden
New be the pattern or old, its final halting-place is death

Yet in this design of things, something unending endures
Wrought by some man of God into perfection’s mould

Some high mortal whose work shines with the light of love
Love is the essence of life, death to which is forbidden

Long current of Time, string and swift though it is
Love itself is a tide, stemming all opposite waves

In the almanac of Love, apart from the present time
Other ages exist, ages which have no name

Love is the breath of Gabriel, Love is the Prophet’s heart
Love the envoy of God, Love the utterance of God

Under the ecstasy of Love our moral clay is bright
Love is an unripe wine, Love is a cup for the noble

Love is the legist of Harem, Love is the commander of hosts
Love is the son of travel, countless its habitations

Love is the plectrum that plucks songs from the chords of life
Love is the brightness of life, Love is the fire of life

Oh shrine of Cordova, thou owes; existence to love
Deathless in all its being, stranger to Past and Present

Color or brick and stone, speech or music or song
Only the heart’s warm blood feeds the craftsman/s design

One drop of heart’s blood lends marble a heating heart
Out of the heart’s blood flow out warmth, music and mirth

Thine the soul-quickening air, mine the soul-quickening verse
From thee the pervasion of men’s hearts, from me the opening of men’s hearts

Inferior to the Heaven of Heavens, by no means the human breast is
Handful of dust though it be, hemmed in the azure sky

What if prostration be the lot of the heavenly host?
Warmth and depth of prostration they do not ever feel

I’ a heathen of Ind, behold my fervour and my ardour
Salat! And Durood fill my soul, Salat ad Darood are on my lips

Fervently sounds my voice, ardently sounds my lute
Allah Hu, like a song, thrilling through every vein

Thou, in beauty and dignity, man of God’s witness
He is the beautiful and dignified, thou art beautiful and dignified

Firm are thy foundations, numberless are thy pillars
Soaring like ranks of palms over the Syrian desert

Light of the Valley of Peace gleams on thy walls and roof
On thy minaret’s height Gabriel stands in glory

The Muslim shall not perish for by his Azan
The secret of Moses and Abraham is revealed

Limitless in his world, boundless his long horizon
Tigris and Danube and Nile but a wave in his sea

His times are wondrous, his legends are strange
To the ages outworn he gave the command to depart

Saqi of men of taste, horseman of the realm of desire
Pure and unmixed his wine, tempered and glittering his steel

Warrior armed in the mail of La Ilah
Under the shadow of swords succored by La Ilah

Behold is thy stones are all the Believer’s secrets
Fire of passionate days, rapture  of melting nights

High is his station and great his thoughts are
Ecstasy, burning desire, self-abasement and pride

The hand of the Momin is the Hand of Allah
Dominant, resourceful, creative, ensuring success

Fashioned of dust and light, slave with the Master’s attribute
His heart is indifferent to the riches of the worlds

His earthly hopes are few, his aims are high
Courtesy in his men, gaining all hearts with his glance

He is soft of speech but fierce in the hour of pursuit
In war and in peace, pure in thoughts and in art

The point of God’s great compass the Believer’s firm faith
All this universe else-shadow, illusion, deceit

He is the goal of love, he is the end of Love
He, in the circle of the firmament, sets all spirits aglow

Shrine of the seekers art! Glory of the manifest Faith
Thou Andalusia’s soil sacred as Mecca hast made

If there is underneath the sky beauty equal to thine
Nowhere shall it be found but in the Muslim’s heart

Ah those champions of Right, those fearless horsemen of  Arabia
Bearers of high morality, knights of the truth and faith

By their rule this strange secret to all was revealed
Men of pure hearts hold away, not to enslave but to serve

East and West by their eyes gained instructions
In the darkness of Europe their minds showed the path

Even today Andalusia, rich with their blood, is seen
Gay and friendly of heart, simple and bright of face

Even today in this land, eyes like the soft gazelle’s
Dart their glances, giving pleasure to the hearts

Even today in its breeze fragrance of Yemen endures
Even today in its song echoes subsist of Hejaz

Thy land is like the heavens in the sight of the stars
For ages, alas, thy atmosphere has remained bereft of the Azan

In what dale and glen, in what stage of the journey
Love’s undaunted caravan now happens to be?

Germany saw, long ago, Change and Revolution
Obliterating the old ways, sweeping away every trace

Holiness of the Pope fast became an erroneous word
Thought in its fragile boat launched on its dangerous course

The eye of France, also, has seen Revolution rage
That overturned the world, the Westerners had known

The Roman nation, old and tired with ancient traditions
With the joy of Rejuvenation discovered again her youth

Now that tempest has seized even the soul of Islam
A Divine secret it is whose meaning cannot be told by the tongue

Watch! from the surface of this ocean what portents finally emerge
What new turn the blue revolving dome takes

Drowned in the twilight is the cloud in the mountain gorge;
The sun has left behind heaps of the rubies of Badakhshan,

Running water of Guadalquiver! on your bank is a stranger
Lost in his thoughts, dreams of another age

Behind the Destiny’s curtain the new world is yet concealed
But to mine eyes its dawn already stands unveiled

Were, I to lift the veil from the face of my thoughts
Europe could not endure the burning heat of my songs

Death, not life, is the life in which no revolution takes place
Strife and revolt are the sustenance of nation’s souls

Keen as a sword that nation is in the hand of Fate
Which at every moment takes account of its works and deeds

Works of creation are incomplete without the heart’s warm blood
Music, an immature frenzy, without the heart’s warm blood

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