Iqbal, Ghalib, Amir Khusraw: Three Masters, Three Poems

1. The Madness of Love by Allama Iqbal

mohabbat ka junuu.N baaqii nahii.n hai
musalamaano.n me.n Khuun baaqii nahii.n hai
safe.n kaj, dil pareshan, sajdaa bezuuk
ke jazabaa-e-a.ndruun baaqii nahii.n hai
rago.n me.n lahuu baaqii nahii.n hai
wo dil, wo aawaaz baaqii nahii.n hai
namaaz-o-rozaa-o-qurbaanii-o-haj
ye sab baaqii hai tuu baaqii nahii.n hai

The madness of love is no more
Blood, the Muslims have no more!
Crooked rows, heavy hearts, pleasureless prostrations
All because the internal passion is no more!
Blood no longer flows in your veins
That heart, that voice of yore is no more
Prayer, fasting, charity, Hajj
These all remain but you are no more!

2. Where I was Last Night by Amir Khusraw Dehlavi.

Nami danam chi manzil bood shab jaay ki man boodam;
Baharsu raqs-e bismil bood shab jaay ki man boodam.
Pari paikar nigaar-e sarw qadde laala rukhsare;
Sarapa aafat-e dil bood shab jaay ki man boodam.
Khuda khud meer-e majlis bood andar laamakan Khusrau;
Muhammad shamm-e mehfil bood shab jaay ki man boodam.

I know not what that place was, where I was last night-
All around I saw lovers slain*, at that place where I was last night!

A fairy-faced lover, cypress-like in stature, cheeks ruddy like tulips.
From head to toe he was heart-ravishing, at that place where I was last night.

God Himself was the host of that gathering inside La-Makaan**, Khusraw!
Muhammad was the light of that gathering, that place where I was last night!
Explanatory Notes:
* literally ’I saw the dance of the ’bismil’ in every direction’: Bismil is the name given to a lamb which is about to be slaughtered in the name of Allah (qurbani) and the ’dance’ [raqs] is the twitching of the animal as it is slaughtered.

** Laa- Makaan. Literally means ’No Place’ and is referring to where the Prophet went, outside the physical universe, during the Night of Ascension.]

3. Do Not Be Stingy With the Wine Today by Mirza Ghalib

kal ke liye kar āj nah ḳhissat sharāb meñ
yih sū-e z̤an hai sāqī-e kauṡar ke bāb meñ

Do not be stingy with the wine today for fear of tomorrow:
Hold a better opinion of the Cupbearer of Kawthar than this!

haiñ āj kyūñ żalīl kih kal tak nah thī pasand
gustāḳhī-e farishtah hamāre janāb meñ

Why are we so disgraced today when til yesterday
Even the angels weren’t permitted to be rude in our presence?

jāñ kyūñ nikalne lagtī hai tan se dam-e samāʿ
gar vuh ṣadā samāʾī hai chang-o-rabāb meñ

Why does my soul appear to leave my body during the audition?
It’s as if that cry is hidden in the notes of the instruments


rau meñ hai raḳhsh-e ʿumr kahāñ dekhiye thame
ne hāth bāg par hai nah pā hai rakāb meñ

The steed of life is in its stride, where will it halt?
There is no hand upon the reins, no foot in the stirrups lies!

utnā hī mujh ko apnī ḥaqīqat se buʿd hai
jitnā kih vahm-e ġhair se hūñ pech-o-tāb meñ

I’m as far removed from the Reality of my Self as
I am perplexed by the thoughts of the Other


aṣl-e shuhūd-o-shāhid-o-mashhūd ek hai
ḥairāñ hūñ phir mashāhadah hai kis ḥisāb meñ

The reality of the witness, the Witnessed and witnessing is one;
I am astonished then as to the meaning of bearing witness.


hai mushtamil numūd-e ṣuvar par vujūd-e baḥr
yāñ kyā dharā hai qat̤rah-o-mauj-o-ḥubāb meñ

The existence of the Ocean is encompassed in the drop
What then is the purpose of drop and wave and bubble?

sharm ik adā-e nāz hai apne hī se sahī
haiñ kitne be-ḥijāb kih yūñ haiñ ḥijāb meñ

Shame is a coquettish gesture, even if it is for oneself!
Many unveiled ones are thus veiled in this manner!

ārāish-e jamāl se fāriġh nahīñ hanūz
pesh-e naz̤ar hai āʾinah dāʾim naqāb meñ

She has still not finished adorning her beauty
Before her eyes a mirror, forever hidden inside the niqab!

hai ġhaib-e ġhaib jis ko samajhte haiñ ham shuhūd
haiñ ḳhvāb meñ hanūz jo jāge haiñ ḳhvāb meñ

He is unseen even from the Unseen, whom we believe to be Present
Those who awaken inside a dream are still really dreaming!

ġhālib nadīm-e dost se ātī hai bū-e dost
mashġhūl-e ḥaq hūñ bandagī-e bū-turāb meñ

Ghalib, the breeze coming from the Friend smells of the Friend
I’m busy with the Truth, in the adoration of ‘Bu Turab [Ali ]!