The Heart and Soul of Iqbal

The Muslims, zealous though about unity of God, Yet their hearts wear the sacred thread the symbol of idol-worship

The culture, mysticism, jurisprudence and dialectical theology Muslims all, are worshippers of these alien idols

The truth has been lost in absurdities; The whole nation is lost in the traditions that are pasted on

The preacher’s summon may beguile the heart, But is devoid of any fire of passion

Through his talk emanates logical dexterities, It is in fact tangled into lexical complexities

The Sufi, once foremost in the service of God, Unmatched in love and unique in self respect

Has lost the way in the maze of alien ideas: At half-way stations this traveler is lost

Extinguished now is the fire of love. O how sad! The Muslim is reduced to just a heap of ashes

O Sustainer, serve me that old wine again. Let that old cup rotated once more

Give me the wings of Love and let me fly. Turn my dust into fireflies and let me fly

Let the wisdom be free from slavery, And the young become mentors of the aged

The nation’s tree is green thanks to Your sap, You O’God blow the breath of life in its body

Show the nation a way to be restless and to throb; Give it the heart of Murtaza, and the fervor of Siddiq

Let that arrow pierce through its heart again. Let passions in the heart be awakened again

Blessed be the stars of Your heaven. Blessed be the night’s wakeful souls on the earth

Give the young the burning pain in their hearts. Give them my ardor and my insight and vision

Dr. Sir Mohammed Iqbal,

the famous poet/philosopher of the subcontinent