(Bal-e-Jibril-018) Ya Rab ! Ye Jahan-e-Guzran Khoob Hai Lekin (یا رب ! یہ جہاں گزرن خوب ہے لیکن) Lovely, oh Lord, this fleeting world; but

Ya Rab! Ye Jahan-e-Guzran Khoob Hai Lekin
Kyun Khawar Hain Mardan-e-Safa Kaish-o-Hunar Mand

Lovely, oh Lord, this fleeting world; but
Why must the frank heart, the quick brain, droop and sigh?

Go Us Ski Khudai Mein Mahajan Ka Bhi Hai Haath
Dunya To Samajhti Hai Farangi Ko Khudawand

Though usury mingle somewhat with his godship,
The white man is the world’s arch‐deity;

To Barg-e-Gya Hai Nadhi Ahle-e-Khirad Ra
Aur Kisht-e-Gul-o-Lala Babkhashand Ba Kharay Chand

One wisp of hay to genius You deny; 
His asses graze in fields of rose and poppy:

Hazir Hain Kalisa Mein Kabab-o-Ma’ay Gulgoon
Masjid Mein Dhara Kya Hai Bajaz Moaza-o-Pand

His Church abounds with roasts and ruby wines:
Sermons and saws are all Your mosques supply. 

Ahkaam Tere Haq Hain Magar Apne Mufassir
Taveel  Se Quran Ko Bana Sakte Hain Pazand

Your laws are just, but their expositors
Bedevil the Koran, twist it awry;

Firdous Jo Tera Hai, Kisi Ne Nahin Dekha
Afrang Ka Har Qariya Hai Firdous Ki Manand

Your paradise no‐one has seen:
In Europe no village but with paradise can view.

Muddat Se Hai Awara’ay Aflaak Mera Fikar
Kar De Isse Ab Chand Ki Gharon Mein Nazarband

Long, long have my thoughts wandered about heaven;
Now in the moon’s blind caverns let them sty!

Fitrat Ne Mujhe Bakhse Hain Johar-e-Malkooti
Khaki Hun Magar Khaak Se Rakhta Nahin Paewand

I, dowered by Nature with empyrean (celestial) essence,
Am dust—but not through dust does my way lie;

Darvesh-e-Khuda Mast Na Sharqi Hai Na Gharbi
Ghar Mera Na Dilli, Na Safahan, Na Samarqand

Nor East, nor west my home,
Nor Samarkand, nor Ispahan nor Delhi; in ecstasy,

Kehta Hun Wohi Baat Samajhta Hun Jise Haq
Ne Abla-e-Masjid Hun, Na Tehzeeb Ka Farzand

 God‐filled, I roam, speaking what truth I see
No fool for priests, nor yet of this age’s fry.

Apne Bhi Khafa Mujh Se Hain, Begane Bhi Na-Khush
Main Zehar-e-Halahil Ko Kabhi Keh Na Saka Qand

My folk berate me, the stranger does not love me:
Hemlock for sherbet I could never cry;

Mushkil Hai Ke Ek Banda’ay Haq Been-o-Haq Andesh
Khashaak Ke To De Ko Kahe Koh-e-Damawand

How could a weigher of truth (True Believer)
See Mount Damawand and think a common refuse‐heap as high?

Hun Atish-e-Namrood Ke Shaolon Mein Bhi Khamosh
Main Band’ay Momin Hun, Nahin Dana’ay Aspand

In Nimrod’s fire faith’s silent witness,
Not like mustard‐seed in the grate burned sputteringly - I am a True Momin - God's Man

Pursoz-o-Nazarbaz-o-Nikobeen-o-Kam Azar
Azad-o-Giraftar-o-Tehi Keesa-o-Khorsand

Blood warm, gaze keen, right‐following, wrong‐forswearing,
In fetters free, prosperous in penury

Har Haal Mein Mera Dil-e-Be Qaid Hai Khurram
Kya Cheenay Ga Gunche Se Koi Zauq-e-Shakar Khand !

In fair of foul untamed and light of heart
Who can steal laughter from a flower’s bright eye?

Chup Reh Na Saka Hazrat-e-Yazdan Mein Bhi Iqbal
Karta Koi Iss Banda’ay Gustakh Ka Munh Band !

Will no one hush this too proud thing Iqbal
Whose tongue God’s presence‐chamber could not tie!