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Rumi and Iqbal

he Indian Disciple (Iqbal):
Discerning eyes bleed in pain,
For faith is ruined by knowledge in this age.

Fling it on the body, and knowledge becomes a serpent;
Fling it on the heart, and it becomes a friend.

The Indian Disciple:
Master of love; of God!
I do remember thy noble words:

‘Wherefrom comes this Friendly voice—
Thin, feeble, and dry as a reed?’
The world today has an eternal sadness,
With neither joy, nor love, nor certitude,
What doth it know about this mystery—
Who is the friend, and what is the friend’s voice?
The sound of music is a dirge
In the West’s crumbling pageant.

Every ear is not attuned to the word of truth,
As a fig suits not the palate of every bird.

The Indian Disciple:
I have mastered knowledge of both the East and the West,
My soul suffers still in agony.

Quacks sicken you more;
Come to us for a cure.

The Indian Disciple:
Thy glance of wisdom brightens my heart;
Explain to me the order for ‘jihad.’

Break the image of God by the command of God,
Break the friend’s glass, with the friend’s stone.

The Indian Disciple:
Oriental eyes are dazzled by the West;
Western nymphs are fairer than those in Paradise.

Silver glisters white and new,
But blackens the hands and clothes.

The Indian Disciple:
The warm-blooded youths in schools,
Alas, are victims of Western magic!

When an unfledged bird begins its flight,
It becomes a ready feline morsel.

The Indian Disciple:
How long this clash between church and state?
Is the body superior to the soul?

Coins may jingle at night,
But gold waits for the morrow.

The Indian Disciple:
Tell me about the secret of man,
Tell how dust is a peer of the stars.

His outside dies of an insect’s bite,
His inside roams the seven heavens.

The Indian Disciple:
Dust with thy help has a luminous eye,
Is man’s purpose knowledge or vision?

Man is perception; the rest is skin;
Perception is the perception of God.

The Indian Disciple:
Muslims have now lost their vigour and force;
Wherefore are they so timid and tame?

God has not disgraced a nation,
Till it is rescued by a saintly soul.

The Indian Disciple:
Though life is a mart without any lustre,
What kind of bargain doth offer some gain?

Sell cleverness and purchase wonder;
Cleverness is doubt; wonder is perception.

The Indian Disciple:
My peers consort with kings in court,
While I am a beggar, uncovered, bare-headed.

To be the slave of a man with an illumined heart,
Is better than to rule the ruler’s of’ the land.

The Indian Disciple:
I am at a loss to know the puzzle
Of free will and determination.

Wings bring a hawk to Kings;
Wings bring a crow to the grave.

The Indian Disciple:
What is the aim of the Prophet’s path—
The rule of the earth, or a monastery?

Prudence in our faith decrees war and power,
In the faith of Jesus-a cave and mount.

The Indian Disciple:
How to discipline the body?
And how to awaken the heart?

Be obedient, ride on the earth like a horse,
Not like a corpse borne on shoulders.

The Indian Disciple:
The secret of faith I do not know;
How to believe in the Day of Judgement?

Be the Judgement Day, and see the Judgement Day;
This is the condition for seeing everything.

The Indian Disciple:
Thou knowest the heart of the universe-,
Tell how a nation can be strong?

If thou art a grain, it will be picked by birds,
And if a blossom, it will be picked by urchins.
Hide thy grain, and be the trap;
Hide thy blossom, and be the grass.

The Indian Disciple:
Thou callest me to seek the heart;
To be a seeker of the heart, and to be in a conflict;
My heart is in my breast,
Like a mirror, it shows my powers.

Thou sayest thou hast a heart
The heart is not below, but in the empyrean,
Thou thinkest thy heart is a heart,
Forsaking the search for illumined hearts.

The Indian Disciple:
My mind soars in ethereal flights,
But I grovel in the dust;
I have failed in the affairs of the world;
Kicks and buffets are my lot;
Why is material world beyond my reach?
Why are the wise in faith, fools in the world?

One who Can Scale the heights of heaven,
Can tread the path of earth with ease.

The Indian Disciple:
What is the secret of knowledge and wisdom?
And how to be blessed with passion and pain?

Knowledge and wisdom are born of honest living;
Love and ecstasy are born of honest living.

The Indian Disciple:
The world demands me to meet and mingle,
But the song is born in solitude.

Keep away from strangers, not from Him,
Wrap thyself for winter, not for spring.

The Indian Disciple:
India now has no light of vision or yearning;
Men of illumined hearts have fallen on evil days.

Imparting heat and light is the task of the brave;
Cunning and shamelessness are the refuge of the mean.


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