(Bang-e-Dra-118) Hazoor-e-Risalat Maab (S.A.W.W.) Mein

Huzoor-e-Risalat Maab (S.A.W.) Mein
Before The Prophet (PBUH)’s Throne

Giran Jo Mujh Pe Hangama-e-Zamana Huwa
Jahan Se Bandh Ke Rakht-e-Safar Rawana Huwa

Sick of this world and all this world’s tumult
I who had lived fettered to dawn and sunset,

Qayood-e-Shaam-o-Sahar Mein Basar To Ki Lekin
Nazam-e-Kuhna-e-Alam Se Aashna Na Huwa

Yet never fathomed the planet’s hoary laws,
Taking provisions for my way set out

Farishte Bazm-e-Rifsalat (S.A.W.) Mein Le Gye Mujh Ko
Huzoor-e-Aya-e-Rehmat (S.A.W.) Mein Le Gye Mujh Ko

From earth, and angels led me where the Prophet (PBUH)
Holds audience, and before the mercy‐seat.

Kaha Huzoor (S.A.W.) Ne, Ae Andleeb-e-Bagh-e-Hijaz!
Kali Kali Hai Teri Garmi-e-Nawa Se Gudaz

‘Nightingale of the gardens of Hijaz! each bud
Is melting,’ said those Lips, ‘in your song’s passion‐flood;

Humesha Sar Khush-e-Jaam-e-Wila Hai Dil Tera
Fatadgi Hai Teri Ghairat-e-Sujood-e-Niaz

Your heart forever steeped in the wine of ecstasy,
Your reeling feet nobler than any suppliant knee.

Ura Jo Pasti-e-Dunya Se Tu Sooye Gardoon
Sikhayi Tujh Ko Malaeek Ne Riffat-e-Parwaz

But since, taught by these Seraphim to mount so high,
You have soared up from nether realms towards the sky

Nikl Ke Bagh-e-Jahan Se Barang-e-Bu Aya
Humare Waste Kya Tohfa Le Ke Tu Aya?

And like a scent comes here from the orchards of the earth—
What do you bring for us, what is your offering worth?’

“Huzoor (S.A.W.) ! Dehr Mein Aasudgi Nahin Milti
Talash Jis Ki Hai Woh Zindagi Nahin Milti”

‘Master! there is no quiet in that land of time and space,
Where the existence that we crave hides and still hides its face;

Hazaron Lala-o-Gul Hain Riyaz-e-Hasti Mein
Wafa Ki Jis Mein Ho Bu, Wo Kali Nahin Milti

Though all creation’s flowerbeds teem with tulip and red rose,
The flower whose perfume is true love—that flower no garden knows.

Magar Mein Nazar Ko Ek Aabgina Laya Hun
Jo Cheez Iss Mein Hai, Jannat Mein Bhi Nahin Milti

But I have brought this chalice here to make my sacrifice;
The thing it holds you will not find in all your Paradise.

Jhalakti Hai Teri Ummat Ki Aabru Iss Mein
Tarablas Ke Shaheedon Ka Hai Lahoo Iss Mein

See here, oh Lord, the honour of your people brimming up!
The martyred blood of Tripoli, oh Lord, is in this cup.’