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(Rumuz-e-Bekhudi-13) Dar Ma'ani Aynke Chun Millat-e-Muhammadia Mosas Bar Touheed Wa Risalat...

That since the Muhammadan Community is founded upon belief in one god and apostleship, therefore it is not bounded by space

Our Essence is not bound to any Place;
The vigour of our wine is not contained
In any bowl, Chinese and Indian
Alike the sherd that constitutes our jar,
Turkish and Syrian alike the clay
Forming our body; neither is our heart
Of India, or Syria, or Rum,
Nor any fatherland do we profess
Except Islam. When pure‐descended Ka‘ab
Brought to the Prophet for an offering
His famed Banat Su’ad, whereon he strung
The night‐illuming jewels of his praise,
And there addressed him as an unsheathed sword
Of India, it did not please his heart
(Being sublimer than high heaven’s sphere)
To be attributed to any clime;
And so the Prophet answered, “Rather say
A Sword of God, if Truth thou worshippest,
No other pathway travel but of Truth.”
Full well he knew the mystery of Part
And Whole, the very dust beneath his feet
Being the magical collyrium
Laid on the eyes of all God’s messengers;
And so he spoke to his community,
“Of all this world of yours, I love alone
Obedient hearts, sweet perfumes, women chaste.”
If the perception of realities
Guideth thy steps, the subtlety confined
In that word yours will not be hid from thee.
Indeed, that lantern of all beings’ night
Dwelt in the world, but was not of the world;
His splendour, that consumed the adoring breasts
Of holy angels, shone while Adam yet
Was clay and water. Of what land he was
I know not; this much only I do know,
He is our comrade. These base elements
He reckoned for our world, himself our guest.
We, who have lost the souls within our breasts,
Have therefore lost ourselves in this mean dust.
Thou art a Muslim, do not bind thy heart.
To any clime, nor lose thyself within
This world dimensionate. The Muslim true
Is not contained in any land on earth;
Syria and Rum are lost within his heart
Grasp thou the heart, and in its vast expanse
Lose this mirage of water and of clay.
Our Master, fleeing from his fatherland,
Resolved the knot of Muslim nationhood.
His wisdom founded one community—
The world its parish—on the sacred charge
To civilize; that Ruler of our faith
Of his abundant bounty gave the earth
Entire to be the confines of our mosque.
He, whom god eulogized in the Quran
And promised He would save his soul alive,
Struck hapless awe into his enemies
So that they trembled at his majesty.
Why fled he, then, from his ancestral home?
Supposest thou he ran before his foes?
The chroniclers, ill understanding what
The Flight portends, have hid the truth from us.
Flight is the law that rules the Muslim’s life,
And is a cause of his stability;
Its meaning is to leap from shallowness,
To quit the dew, the ocean to subdue.
Transgress the bloom; the garden is thy goal;
The loss of less more vastly gain adorns.
The sun’s great glory is in ranging free;
The skies’ arena lies beneath his feet.
Be not a streamlet, seeking wealth from rain;
Be boundless; quest no limit in the world.
The frowning sea was once a simple plain,
Played being shore, and liquefied of shame.
Have thou the will to master everything,
That thou mayest win dominion over all;
Plunge like a fish, and populate the sea;
Shake off the chains of too constricted space.
He who has burst from all dimension’s bonds
Ranges through all directions, like the sky.
The rose’s scent by parting from the rose
Leaps far abroad, and through the garden’s breadth
Disseminates itself. Thou, who hast snatched
One corner of the meadow for thine own,
Like the poor nightingale art satisfied
To serenade one rose. Be like the breeze;
Cast off the burden of complacency
From thy broad shoulders; in thy wide embrace
Gather the garden. Be thou wary; lo,
These times are full of treachery, the way
Beset by brigands; wayfarer, beware!

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