The Rise of Islam

The dimness of the stars is evidence of the bright morning. The sun has risen over the horizon; the time of deep slumber has passed.

The blood of life runs in the veins of the dead East: Avicenna and Farabi cannot understand this secret.

The storm in the West made Muslims Muslims. Pearls are produced in abundance from the very buffetings of the sea.

The true believers are once more to receive from the court of God The glory of the Turkamans, the intellect of the Indians and the eloquence of the Arabs.

If there is still some trace of sleep left in the buds, my nightingale, Then make your songs more plaintive, for you found their desire to hear your melody too little.

Whether your agitation be in the courtyard of the garden, in the nest, in the leafy branches— This quicksilver-destiny cannot be separated from mercury.

Why should that pure-seeing eye look at the glitter of armour on the horse When it sees the valour of the holy warrior?

Make the lamp of desire bright in the heart of the tulip! Make every particle of the garden a martyr to search!

The effect of the spring-rain is born in the tears of the Muslims. Pearls will be born again in the sea of the Friend of God.

This book of the Radiant Community is receiving a new binding; The Hashimite branch is once more ready to bring forth new leaves and fruit.

The Turk of Shiraz has ravished the heart of Tabriz and Kabul; The morning breeze makes the scent of the rose its companion on the road.

If a mountain of grief collapsed upon the Ottomans, then why lament? For the dawn arises from the blood of a hundred thousand stars.

More difficult than the conquest of the world is the task of seeing the world; When the heart is reduced to blood, only then does the eye of the heart receive its sight.

For a thousand years the narcissus has been lamenting its blindness; With great difficulty the one with true vision is born in the garden.

Burst into song, oh nightingale! so that from your melody The spirit of the royal falcon may arise in the delicate body of the dove!

The secret of life is hidden in your breast— then tell it; Tell the Muslims the account of the burning and re-making of life.

You are the ever-powerful hand and the tongue of the eternal God; Give birth to certainty, of negligent one, for your are laid low by doubt.

The goal of the Muslim lies beyond the blue sky; You are the caravan, which the stars follow as dust on the road.

Space is transient; its inhabitants are transitory, but the beginning of time is yours; its end is yours. You are the final message of God; you are eternal.

The blood of your heart is the henna which decorates the tulip-bride. You belong to Abraham; you are the builder of the world.

Your nature is the trustee of all the possibilities of life; You are like the touchstone of the hidden essence of the world.

The One who left this world of water and clay for eternal life— The one whom the prophethood took with it—you are that gift.

This principle rises from the story of the Radiant Community— You are the guardian of the nations of the land of Asia.

Read again the lesson of truth, of justice and valour! You will be asked to do the work of taking on responsibility for the world.

This is the destiny of nature; this is the secret of Islam— World-wide brotherhood, an abundance of love!

Break the idols of colour and blood and become lost in the community. Let neither Turanians, Iranians nor Afghan remain.

How long will you keep company in the branches with the birds of the garden; In your arms is the flight of the royal hawk of Quhistan.

In the abode of doubts of existence is the certainty of the Muslim hero; In the darkness of the desert night is the candle of the monks.

What was it that erased the tyranny of Caesar and Cyrus? The power of Hyder, the asceticism of Bu Dharr, the truth of Salman!

How magnificently the heroes of the community have blazed the trail, And those who have been prisoners for centuries peer at them through a crack in the door.

The stability of life in the world comes from the strength of faith, For the Turanians have emerged firmer than even the Germans

When certainty is born in these embers of ashes, Then it gives birth to the wings of Gabriel.

In slavery, neither swords or plans are effective, But when the taste for certainty is created, then the chains are cut.

Can anyone even guess at the strength of his arm? By the glance of the man who is a true believer even destiny is changed.

Empire, sainthood, the knowledge of things which holds the world in its sway— What are they all? Only commentaries on one small point of faith.

But it is difficult to create the insight of Abraham; Desire insidiously paints pictures in our breasts.

The distinction of servant and lord has put mankind into turmoil; Beware, oh powerful ones; the penalties of nature are harsh.

There is one reality for everything, be it of earth or fire; The blood of the sun will drip, of we split the heart of an atom.

Firm certainty, eternal action, the love that conquers the world— These are the swords of men in the holy war of life.

What else does man need but a lofty spirit and pure character, A warm heart, a pure-sighted eye and a restless soul?

Those who rushed forward with the splendour of the eagle emerged plucked of their wings and plumage; The stars of evening sank in the blood of the sunset but rose again.

Those who swam under the sea were buried by the ocean, But those who suffered the buffeting of the wave arose, and became pearls.

Those who prided themselves on their alchemy are the dust of the wayside; Those who kept their forehead upon the dust emerged as the makers of elixir.

Our slow-running messenger brought the tidings of life; Those to whom the lightning gave news emerged unknowing.

The Shrine was disgraced by the lack of foresight of the old keeper of the shrine; But how our Tartar heroes emerged as young men of vision!

Those who soar aloft and light the sky say this to the earth, ‘These earth-bound creatures emerged more lively, more stable and more shining.’

In the world, the people of faith live like the sun; Here they sink, there they arise, there they sink, here they arise!

The certainty of individuals is the capital for building the community; This is the power which draws the portrait of the fate of the community.

You are the secret of creation, see yourself in your eyes; Share the secret of your own self, become the spokesman of God.

Greed has split mankind into little pieces; Become the statement of brotherhood, become the language of love.

Here are Indians, there people of Khurasan, here Afghans, there Turanians— You, who despise the shore, rise up and make yourself boundless.

Your wings and your plumage are soiled with the dust of colour and race; You, my bird of the holy shrine, shake your wings before you start to fly.

Immerse yourself in your self, my forgetful one, this is the secret of life; Come out from the fetters of evening and morning, become immortal.

On the battle-field of life adopt the nature of steel; In the bed-chamber of love become as soft as silk and painted brocade.

Pass like a river in full spate through the mountains and the deserts; If the garden should come your way, then become a melodiously singing stream.

There is no limit to your knowledge and love; In the instrument of nature there is no sweeter song than you.

Even now, mankind if the miserable prey to imperialism; How distressing that man is hunted by man!

The glitter of modern civilization dazzles the sight; But this clever craftsmanship is a mosaic of false jewels.

That science, in which the scholars of the West took pride, Is the sword of warfare held in the bloody grip of greed.

That civilization of the world, which is founded on capitalism, Can never be become strong by spellbinding schemes.

By action life may become both paradise and hell; This creature of dust in its nature is neither of light nor of fire.

Teach the nightingale to send forth its clamour; Open the knot of the bud, for you are the spring breeze for this garden.

Once more the spark of love has arisen from the heart of Asia; The earth is the coursing-ground for the staincloaked Tartars.

Arise! A buyer has come to our hapless life; After an age, the time has come for our caravan’s departure.

Come, Saki! The song of the bird of the garden has come from the branches; The spring has come; the beloved has come; the beloved has come; peace has come!

The spring cloud has pitched its tent in the valley and the desert; The sound of the waterfall has come from the summit of the mountains.

I implore you; renew the law of the past! For the army of singers has come drove upon drove.

Turn away from the ascetics and fearlessly drink wine from the jar; After an age the song of the nightingale has rung out from this old branch.

Bring the account of the Master of Badr and Hunain to those who yearn; Its hidden mystic powers have been revealed to the eye.

Again the branch of Khalil has been watered by the sap of our blood; In the marketplace of love our cash has proved to be perfect.

I scatter the pearls of tulips upon the dust of the martyrs, For their blood has proved to be effective for the saplings of the community.

Come, so that we may strew roses and pour a measure of wine in the cup! Let us split open the roof of the heavens and think upon new ways.