Woh Nazar Ata Hai Tehzeeb-e-Hijazi Ka Mazar
Weep to thy heart’s content, O blood‐weeping eye!
Yonder is visible the tomb of Muslim culture.
Beher Bazi-Gah Tha Jin Ke Safeenon Ka Kabhi
Once this place was alive with those dwellers of the desert,
For whose ships the ocean was a playground;
Bijliyon Ke Aashiyane Jin Ki Talwaron Mein The
Who raised earthquakes in the palaces of the kings of kings,
In whose swords were the nests of many lightning.
Kha Gyi Asr-e-Kuhan Ko Jin Ki Taegh-e-Na-Saboor
Whose birth was death for the old world,
Whose fear caused the palaces of error to tremble;
Admi Azad Zanjeer-e-Toham Se Huwa
Whose cry of arise gave life to a lifeless world
And freedom to men from the chains of superstition.
Kya Woh Takbeer Ab Hamasha Ke Liye Khamosh Hai?
Is that cry of God is great silent for ever,
Whose reverberations delight the ear to this day?
Rehnama Ki Tarah Iss Pani Ke Sehra Mein Hai Tu
Oh Sicily! The sea is honoured by you,
You are a guide in the desert of these waters.
Zaib Tere Khal Se Rukhsar-e-Darya Ko Rahe
Teri Shamaon Se Tasalli Beher-Pema Ko Rahe
May the cheek of the ocean remain adorned by your beauty spot;
May the lamps comfort those who measure the seas;
Mouj Raqsaan Tere Sahil Ki Chatanon Par Madaam
May your view be ever light on the eyes of the traveller,
May waves ever dance on your rocks!
Husn-e-Alam Souz Jis Ka Atish-e-Nazzara Tha
Once you were the cradle of civilization of the people,
The fire of whose glance was world‐burning beauty.
Dagh Roya Khoon Ke Ansu Jahan-Abad Par
The nightingale of Shiraz wailed over Baghdad,
And Dagh wept tears of blood over Delhi.
Ibn-e-Badroon Ke Dil-e-Na-Shaad Ne Faryad Ki
When the heavens scattered the wealth of Granada to the winds,
The sorrowful heart of Ibn Badrun cried out.
Chun Liya Taqdeer Ne Woh Dil Ke Tha Mehram Tera
The dirge of your ruin fell to the lot of the grieving Iqbal:
Destiny picked up the heart that was privy to your secrets.
Tere Sahil Ki Khamoshi Mein Hai Andaz-e-Byan
Whose story is hidden in your ruins?
The silence of your footfall has a mode of expression.
Jis Ki Tu Manzil Tha, Main Uss Karwan Ki Gard Hun
Tell me of your sorrow—I too am full of pain;
I am the dust of that caravan whose goal you were.
Qissa Ayyam-e-Salaf Ka Keh Ke Tarpa De Mujhe
Paint over this picture once more and show it to me;
Make me suffer by telling the story of ancient days.
Khud Yahan Rota Hun, Auron Ko Wahan Rulaon Ga
I shall carry your gift to India;
I shall make others weep as I weep here.