Be thou a surge of wine, and the crystal cup thy robe

Be thou a surge of wine, and the crystal cup thy robe !
Shatter the mirror of fear,
Break the bottles in the bazaar
Like the reed-flute, bring a message from the reed-bed
Give to Majnun a message from the tribe of Laila!
Create a new style for thy song,

Enrich the assembly with thy piercing strains
Up, and re-inspire every living soul
Say ‘Arise !’ and by that word quicken the living
Up, and set thy feet on another path
Put aside the passionate melancholy of old !
Become familiar with the delight of singing; bell of the caravan, awake!”

Strike the chords of thine heart and rouse a tumultuous strain.

Strike the chords of thine heart and rouse a tumultuous strain.
Dash thine head against the goblet and thine eye against the lancet!
Make thy laughter the source of a hundred sighs.
Make the hearts of men bleed with thy tears
How long wilt thou be silent, like a bud?
Sell thy fragrance cheap, like the rose!

Tongue-tied, thou art in pain:
Cast thyself upon the fire, like rue!
Like the bell, break silence at last, and from every limb.
Utter forth a lamentation!
Thou art fire: fill the world with thy glow!
Make others burn with thy burning!
Proclaim the secrets of the old wine seller;

That I may make the glistening pearl mine own – Secrets of Self by Allama Iqbal

That I may make the glistening pearl mine own.
I who am drunken with the wine of his song.
Draw life from the breath of his words,
‘Twas night my heart would fain lament.
The silence was filled with my cries to God.

I was complaining of the sorrows of the world.
And bewailing the emptiness of my cup.
At last mine eye could endure no more,
Broken with fatigue it went to sleep.
There appeared the Master, formed in the mould of Truth,
Who wrote the Koran in Persian.’
He said, “O frenzied lover,
Take a draught of love’s pure wine.

Inspired by the genius of the Master of Rum – Secrets of Self by Allama Iqbal

Inspired by the genius of the Master of Rum.’
I reherarse the sealed book of secret lore.
His soul is the flaming furnace,
I am but as the spark that gleams for a moment.
His burning candle consumed me, I the moth;

His wine overwhelmed my goblet.
The master of Rum transmuted my earth to gold
And set my ashes aflame.
The grain of sand set forth from the desert,
That it might win the radiance of the sun.
I am a wave and I will come to rest in his sea,

Arise and pour pure wine into my cup – Secrets of Self by Allama Iqbal

Arise and pour pure wine into my cup
Pour moon beams into the dark night of my thought,
That I may lead home the wanderer
And imbue the idle looker on with rest less impatience;
And advance hotly on a new quest

And become known as the champion of a new spirit:
And be to people of insight as the pupil to the eye,
And sink into the ear of the world, like a voice;
And exalt the worth of Poesy
And sprinkle the dry herbs with my tears.

O Saqi arise and pour wine into the cup! – Secrets of Self by Allama Iqbal

O Saqi arise and pour wine into the cup!
Clear the vexation of Time from my heart
The sparkling liquor that flows from Zemzen1
Were a beggar to worship it, he would become a king.
It makes thought more sober and wise, it makes the keen eye keener,

it gives to a straw the weight of a mountain,
And to foxes the strength of lions.
It causes dust to soar to the Pleiades
And a drop of waters well to the breadth of the sea.
it turns silence Into the din of Judgment Day,
it makes the foot of the partridge red
with blood of the hawk.

I sweep over mountain and plain – Secrets of Self by Allama Iqbal

I sweep over mountain and plain.
Wrestle with my sea, if thou art a plain;
Receive my lightning if thou art a Sinai.
The Fountain of Life hath been given me to drink.
I have been made an adept of the mystery of Life.
The speck of dust was vitalised by my burning song:

It unfolded wings-and became a firefiy.
No one hath. told the secret which I will tell
Or threaded a pearl of thought like mine
Come, if thou would’st know the secret of everlasting life
Come, if thou would’st win both earth and heaven.
Heaven taught me this lore,
I cannot hide it from comrades

They passed, as a camel steps, with little sound

They passed, as a camel steps, with little sound.
But I am a lover: loud crying is my faith
The clamour of Judgment Day is one of my minions.
My song exceeds the range of the chord,
Yet I do not fear that my lute will break.
Twere better for the water drop not to know my torrent,

Whose fury should rather madden the sea.
No river will contain my Oman
My flood requires whole seas to hold it.
Unless the bud expand into a bed of roses,
It is unworthy of my spring-cloud’s bounty.
Lightnings slumber within my sou

I am the voice of the poet of To-morrow

I am the voice of the poet of To-morrow
My own age does not understand my deep meanings,
My Joseph is not for this market.
I despair of my old companions,
My Sinai burns forsake of the Moses who is coming.
Their sea is silent, like dew,

But my dew is storm-ridden, like the ocean.
My song is of another world than theirs:
This bell calls other travellers to take the road,
Many a poet was born after his death,
Opened our eyes when his own were closed.,
And journeyed forth again from nothingness,
Like roses blossoming o’er the earth of his grave.
Albeit caravans have passed through this desert

I am born in the world as a new sun,

I am born in the world as a new sun,
I have not learned the ways and fashions of the sky
Not yet have the stars fled before my splendour,
Not yet is my quicksilver astir;
Untouched is the sea by my dancing rays,
Untouched are the mountains by my crimson hue.

The eye of existence is not familiar with me;
I rise trembling, afraid to show myself.
From the East my dawn arrived and routed Night,
A fresh dew settled on the rose of the world.
I am waiting for the votaries that rise at dawn;
Oh, happy they who shall worship my fire!
I have no need of the ear of Today,

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