JAVID NAMA [Electronic resources] نسخه متنی

This is a Digital Library

With over 100,000 free electronic resource in Persian, Arabic and English

JAVID NAMA [Electronic resources] - نسخه متنی

Muhammad Iqbal

| نمايش فراداده ، افزودن یک نقد و بررسی
افزودن به کتابخانه شخصی
ارسال به دوستان
جستجو در متن کتاب
تنظیمات قلم


اندازه قلم

+ - پیش فرض

حالت نمایش

روز نیمروز شب
جستجو در لغت نامه
لیست موضوعات
افزودن یادداشت جدید


Man, in this world of
seven hues,
lute-like is ever afire
with lamentation;
yearning for a kindred
spirit burns him inwardly
teaching him threnodies
to soothe the heart,
and yet this world,
that is wrought of water and clay—
how can it be said to
possess a heart?
Sea, plain, mountain,
grass–all are deaf and dumb,
deaf and dumb heaven
and sun and moon;
though the stars swarm
in the selfsame sky
each star is more
solitary than the other,
each one is desperate
just as we are,
a vagrant lost in an
azure wilderness—
the caravan
unprovisioned against the journey,
the heavens boundless,
the nights interminable.
Is this world then some
prey, and we the huntsmen,
or are we prisoners
utterly forgotten?
Bitterly I wept, but
echo answered never:
where may Adam’s
son find a kindred spirit?
I have seen that the
day of this dimensioned world
whose light illuminates
both palace and street
came into being from
the flight of a planet,
is nothing more, you
might say, than a moment gone.
How fair is the Day
that is not of our days,
the Day whose dawn has
neither noon nor eve!
Let its light
illuminate the spirit
and sounds become
visible even as colours;
hidden things become
manifest in its splendour,
its watch is unending
and intransient.
Grant me that Day,
Lord, even for a single day,
deliver me from this
day that has no glow!
Concerning whom was the
Verse of Subjection revealed?
For whose sake spins
the azure sphere so wildly?
Who was it knew the
secret of He taught the names?
Who was intoxicated
with that saki and that wine?
Whom didst Thou choose
out of all the world?
To whom didst Thou
confide the innermost secret?
O Thou whose arrow
transpierced our breast,
who uttered the words Call
upon me, and to whom?
Thy countenance is my
faith, and my Koran:
dost Thou begrudge my
soul one manifestation?
By the loss of a
hundred of its rays
the sun’s capital
is in no wise diminished.
Reason is a chain
fettering this present age:
where is a restless
soul such as I possess?
For many ages Being
must twist on itself
that one restless soul
may come into being.
Except you fret away at
this brackish soil
it is not congenial to
the seed of desire;
count it for gain
enough if a single heart
grows from the bosom of
this unproductive clay!
Thou art a moon: pass
within my dormitory,
glance but once on my
unenlightened soul.
Why does the flame
shrink away from the stubble?
Why is the
lightning-flash afraid to strike?
So long as I have
lived, I have lived in separation:
reveal what lies beyond
yon azure canopy;
open the doors that
have been closed in my face,
let earth share the
secrets of heaven’s holy ones.
Kindle now a fire
within my breast-
leave be the aloe, and
consume the brushwood,
then set my aloe again
upon the fire
and scatter my smoke
through all the world.
Stir up the fire within
my goblet,
mingle one glance with
this inadvertency.
We seek Thee, and Thou
art far from our sight;
no, I have erred-we are
blind, and Thou art present.
Either draw aside this
veil of mysteries
or seize to Thyself
this sightless soul!
The date-tree of my
thought despairs of leaf and fruit;
either despatch the
axe, or the breeze of dawn.
Thou gavest me reason,
give me madness too,
show me the way to
inward ecstasy.
Knowledge takes up
residence in the thought,
love’s lodge is
the unsleeping heart;
so long as knowledge
has no portion of love
it is a mere
picture-gallery of thoughts.
This peep-show is the
Samiri’s conjuring-trick;
knowledge without the
Holy Ghost is mere spellbinding.
Without revelation no
wise man ever found the way,
he died buffetted by
his own imaginings;
without revelation life
is a mortal sickness,
reason is banishment,
religion constraint.
This world of mountain
and plain, ocean and land—
we yearn for vision,
and it speaks of report.
Grant to this vagrant
heart a resting-place,
restore to the moon
this fragment of the moon.
Though from my soil
nothing grows but words,
the language of
banishment never comes to an end.
Under the heavens I
feel myself a stranger:
from beyond the skies
utter the words I am near,
that these dimensions,
this north and this south,
like to the sun and
moon in the end may set,
I shall transcend the
talisman of yesterday
and tomorrow, transcend
the moon, sun, Pleiades.
Thou art eternal
splendour; we are like sparks—
a breath or two we
possess, and that too borrowed.
You who know naught of
the battle of death and life,
who is this slave who
would emulate even God?
This slave, impatient,
conquering all horizons,
finds pleasure neither
in absence nor in presence.
I am a momentary thing:
make me eternal,
out of my earthiness
make me celestial.
Grant me precision both
in speech and action:
the ways are clear-
give me the strength to walk.
What I have said comes
from another world;
this book descends from
another heaven.
I am a sea; untumult in
me is a fault;
where is he who can
plunge into my depths?
A whole world slumbered
upon my shore
and saw from the strand
naught but the surge of a wave.
I, who despair of the
great sages of old,
have a word to say
touching the day to come!
Render my speech easy
unto the young,
make my abyss for them

/ 66