To the Nation (2-5)
EGO
Who makes Ego firm by ‘Layla’s tie, From lifeless sands can make a seeing eye.
Lose not ever that man’s greatest boon, In whose reach I see the Sun and Moon.
O ignorant man get a knowing heart, In wake of thy elders learn thy own part.
Flow can a ‘momin’ tell His Secret act, From ‘La’ got the Allah’s positive fact’.
Thy heart keeps not that hidden scar. A Muslim’s shine it lacks so far.
You always water the Soil of Ego, From a lake which knows no furious flow:
(3)
Ana Al-Haq (I am Haq)
A place of I am God is God’s own place. This sin takes to gallows or no disgrace?
If one man says this reprove at this wrong, If a nation says, then you get along.
I am the God suits to that nation lone, Whose blood’s moisture feels each branch grown.
In whose power hids a beauty queer, To him the nine heavens are servants clear.
Among nations large she holds a place great, That race is the leader of both worlds’ fate.
From her novel acts, new miracles breed, To dream and weaken is banned in her creed.
From her inner verve that race is a flame, To her the world charms is a worthless game.
What means by I’m God her efforts define, Her each Kun (‘be’) says Yakun (‘become’) an object fine.
Like a unique race thus she flies in space, With eyes ever set on her centre’s base.
The moon and stars in her lasso’s reach, Lies in her hand the fate of age each.
In garden’s lawn he is song bird sweet, In jungles a hawk with ruthless heat.
Her king in power is a poor man’s base, Her poor man in want has a kingly grace.
Fill the old wine in the New Age bowl. Cast the self’s light on hills and lands whole.
If you wish to eat fruits from Mansoor’s bowl, Say none save Allah can rule the world whole.
(4)
Sufi and Mullah
The Mullah and Sufi are cross in deed, His eye seldom sees the pitch in its seed.
If this is the faith which I have in me, To oust me from Kaaba a right has he.
When the English subdued the mosque and fane, “No aliens are they”, said the convent’s brain.
I told my fears to a Mullah when, “Make his end well”, he just prayed then.
To Mullah and Sufi thou art a slave, From insight of Quran no life you crave.
You need verses only at time of grief, That ‘Yasin’ would give death paugs a relief.
Through the mirror of Quran see thy deeds, How changed it thee, change the life you lead.
Thus weigh in a scale thy actions and thought, Get a sweeping change as the elders brought.
I salute the Mullah and Sufi old, Who gave me the message of God as told.
It tilled with wonder the meaning he drew, Which God, His Prophet and Gabe never knew.
On hell kafir maker Mullah spoke, On which a kafir in a nice way broke.
That slave knows not where he would go? Who is sending the rest in heirs long row.
A well read disciple asked his guide, With a word in which a sting did hide.
To die for a life will it well behave? To make one’s living from bones of a grave.
Thus spoke to his son a guide in patched robe, I tell thee a point after whole life’s probe.
To Nimrods of this age, know by face, By God’s grace live with the Abram’s grace.
(5)
Rumi
Pour in thy self that old wine again, His one cup’s worth is more than a reign.
Keep the verses of Rumi in thy brain, And paste them around the heart’s walls again.
Take from his cup those poppy like stems, Whose one sip can turn a stone into gem.
The heart of a lion who gave to the deer, Who shaved the black spots from a panther’s rear.
From his verve and heat I got a good share, My night was a day from that bught star’s flare,
See a gazelle on ‘Harem’s’ desert sands, He smiles like a lion on oasis or lands.
Being full of pathos and passion’s heat, His tete a tete thus had the pangs sweet treat.
By flute gets beauty of His Love’s sweet light, A gift and share good of His Glory and Might.
He solved many ties I had to face, He gave to way’s dust his exir’s grace.
The tone of this flu’tist, tender heart hence, Made me conscious of Love and fervour sense.
To me his heart’s door was always ope, From my dust he caused a world’s new hope.
From his grace I got a grace and trust. For me he tamed the Moon and Stars first.
His thought thus flies with stars and moon rays, His eye thus views beyond milky ways.
Lay thy restive heart at his fluid tune, From his quick silver get a quick calm soon.
Take secrets of content from Rumi’s call, That content is envied by rich men all.
Be cautious from content which may take thee, To a place of bow down and sheer slavery.
When self is deprived from godly tint, The content then gets a beggar’s print.
From Rumi’s drunk eyes I borrowed a trance, To taste a sweet joy of his godly glance.
That bright wine scattered from my wineyard, Who hung to my shirt, got the lucks award.
To Rumi I owe a share of his flame, Which Sinai took first and earned great fame.