Ilahi aql-e-khajista-pai ko zara si deewangi sikha de

O God, to my cautious, well-trod reason, teach a sacred frenzy; It is obsessed with mending—my own garment is no concern of mine.

When I was given love's burning fire, the angels at the dawn of eternity spoke: "You are a lone candle on a grave; you have no assembly."

Where can a soulmate be found? This land is alien, O my heart! The thing you ask of me is not found beneath the ancient sky.

Arabia's great Architect made it unique from all the world; The foundation of our Community's fortress is not the unity of homeland.

What coming? What going? The divisions of this world and the next are a lie. Our essence is manifest in all things; we have no single homeland.

Someone go, Iqbal, and give this message to the editor of 'Makhzan': These nations, so absorbed in their affairs, have no taste for the art of words.