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In Memory of Mother of Blessed Memory


Every particle of the universe is a prisoner of destiny 
Prudence is a cover  for helplessness and compulsion 

The sky, the sun and the moon all are helpless
The fast moving stars are compelled to moving

Breaking is the end of flower bud's pitcher in the garden
The garden's verdure and flowers are also compelled to grow 

It may be nightingale's  song or conscience' silent call
Everything is chained in the same universal chain!

When this secret of helplessness becomes evident to the eye
The turbulent flood of tears in the heart dries up

The dance of pleasure and grief does not remain in the human heart
The song remains but the pleasure of treble and bass does not remain 

Knowledge and wisdom are robbers of tears and sighs wealth
That is the intelligent heart is a piece of diamond!

Though the dew's freshness does not exist in my garden 
My eye is not enriched with the red tears

Ah! I am aware of the secret of human afflictions
But  my nature's  orchestra is unaware of complaint's song

The story of vicissitudes of time does  not come on my lips
My heart is not astonished, not laughing, not crying

But  O messenger, your picture is one of constant wailing
Ah! this is the contradiction of my firm wisdom!

Life's  foundation becomes lasting with overflowing wailing
The hard hearted Intellect is embarrassed with the knowledge of pathos

My mirror is bright with the wave of sighs smoke
My skirt is full with the treasure of tears

The miracle of your picture has surprised me
Which has completely changed the flight of time

As if  it brought the past and present together 
It acquainted  me again with the age of infancy

When that feeble soul  was being nurtured by your side
Whose  tongue was not adequately familiar with talking

And whose linguistic spice is now the subject of conversation
The pearls of whose  jewel-shedding eyes  are priceless

The learning's serious discourses, the shrewdness of  old age
The dignity of worldly honors, the pride of young age

We descend from the positions of dignity in life
We descend as a simple child in the lap of the mother

We are laughing informally, we are free from care 
We are once more living in the same lost paradise

Ah! Who will now be waiting for me in the homeland?
Who will become restless by not getting my letter?

I will  come to your grave carrying this lament
To whose thoughts will I come in the midnight prayers?

With  your up-bringing I became fortunate like stars
The house of my ancestors became a source of pride 

Your life was written in gold letters in the existence book
Your life was a full lesson of secular and religious education

Your love remained in my service  for your whole life 
When I was able to serve you, you did not survive

That  youth who equals the slender cypress in stature
Who became more fortunate in serving you than me

That constant companion of mine in the business of life
That  picture of yours  in love, that source of my strength

He is crying like a helpless infant for you
He is crying  with impatience from morning till evening

The love whose seed you planted in our life's field
By the grief of separation that love became more firm

Ah! This world, this mourning place for the young and old!
In what a strange ever-changing prison man is imprisoned!

How difficult it is to live! How easy it is to die!
In the existence garden death is cheap as  breeze!

There are earthquakes, thunderbolts, famines, afflictions
How diverse the daughters of the mother of time are!

In poor man's hovel, in rich man's mansion is death
In forest, house, city, garden, wilderness is  death

Death is tumultuous  in the silent ocean
Boats are drowned in the lap of death

Neither there is ability to complain, nor power of speech
Life nothing but is a yoke choking the throat

In the caravan nothing but bell's wailing exists
Nothing except the valuable weeping eye exists!

However, this period of trial will also come  to its end
Behind the sky's  nine orbits there are other orbits also

What if the tulips and roses in this garden are afflicted?
What if nightingales are compelled to wail and complain?

The bushes, which are burnt by the sighs of the autumn
Will green up when the breezes of the invigorating spring flow

What if our spark is asleep in the dust of the shield?
What if this handful of dust is our temporary abode?

The end of the fire of life is not in the ashes!
This is not the jewel whose destiny is breaking!

Life is such a beloved in the eye of Nature
Life's preservation is in everything's  nature

If the death's  hand could efface life's picture
The system of the universe would not have made it so common

If it is cheap then think that  death is nothing
Just as there is no break in living by sleeping

Ah ! O imprudent one! Death's hidden secret is something different!
The  instability of the picture  exhibits something different!

The picture of wind over water is sight's paradise
By break in the restless wave it makes the bubbles

It conceals it again in the skirt of the wave!
How  mercilessly it demolishes its own picture

If the wind could not create its bubble again
The wind would  not have broken it so carelessly

What is the effect of this custom on the form of creation?
This is the proof  of the power of wind over creation

If the existence nature be not in search of longing
It would  never be in search of the better form!

Ah ! The restless mercury, the sky brightening stars
The heat of these sparks is obligated to the night

Their antiquity is bewildering to the Intellect
The history of the human race  is a mere moment for them

Then this Man whose vision is directed to the celestial world
Who  is more immaculate in his goals than qudsis

Who is lighted up like a candle in the assembly of  Nature
In the expanse of whose  nature celestial world is a mere dot

Whose  ignorance is restless to know the Truth
Whose nail is the plectrum to the harp of existence

Is this flame inferior than the sky's  sparks even?
Is our sun less precious than the stars even?

The eye of flower's seed is awake even  under the soil
How restless for growth  and development the seed is 

The flame of life which is concealed in this grain 
Is under compulsion for self-assertion and growth

Even with the grave's cold  it cannot become dispirited
Even  by being buried under soil it cannot become cold!

Becoming a flower, it comes out of its grave
That is it gets the robe of  life from its death

Grave is the organizer of its scattered powers
Which is throwing its rope-ladder round sky's neck

Death is the name  of the renewal of life's  taste
Behind the veil of sleep it is a message of awakening

The one accustomed to flight is not afraid of flight!
Death in this garden is nothing but readying for flight!

People say that the pain of death is incurable
Separation's wound is cured with time's salve

But the heart  where the grief of the dead ones is living
Is free from the loop  of the chain of morning and evening

Mourning's wailing does not stop with the spell of time
Time is no salve for the wound  of separation's sword

When some sudden calamity befalls us
Tears come  out of the eyes constantly 

The heart becomes accustomed to wailing and complaint
The heart's blood drips from the tearful eyes

Though Man is deprived of the power of patience
This  sub-conscious feeling always exists in his nature

The essence of Man does not become annihilated
He disappears from sight but is not annihilated

The baggage of life is dust with the flame of grief
This fire is cooled with this subtle feeling's  water

Ah! This control  of wailing is not negligence silence
This consolation is awareness, it is not forgetfulness!

When  the dawn manifests itself from the east
It washes away the night's stain from the world's  skirt

It clothes the melancholy tulip in red garb
It makes the silent bird intoxicated with music

The song is freed from  the nightingale's breast
The morning breeze is so full of hundreds of tunes

Those who in rose beds, mountains and brooks were sleeping
At long last in the morning the bride of life are embracing

If the law of life is that every night dawn be
Why the end of Man's  grave should not his dawn be

The net  of my silvery imagination is universal
In which I have  imprisoned your remembrance!

The affliction stricken heart  is filled with your memory
As in the Ka'bah the expanse is filled with supplications!

The sequence of Divine commands which is called life
Its manifestations are covering myriad of unstable worlds

The ways of every stage of life are different
Hereafter also is a marshaling place of life!

Nothing is available there to the death's field
But the climate is favorable for action's seed

The light of nature is not imprisoned in body's darkness
The expanse of the human thought is not so narrow

Your life  was brighter than even the moon
Your journey was better than even that of the morning  star

May your grave be bright like the dawn's mansion
May  this dusty bed-chamber of yours be light-filled!

May the sky be spraying dew  on your  grave!
May the freshly grown grass be guarding this house!

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