Unusual
in state, distinct from the whole world they are
O Lord!
Inhabitants of which habitation these Lovers are?
Even
during pathos's cure I desperately love pathos
Blisters'
thorns have been extracted with needle's point
O Lord,
the garden of my hopes may remain prosperous
I have
raised these plants watering them with my blood
The stars'
silence at night makes me weep
Strange my
Love is, strange my Laments are
Do not ask
me of the pleasure of remaining destitute
Hundreds
of nests have been made and destroyed by me
Being a
stranger to the journey's companion is not good
O spark!
Wait, after all we are also going to disappear
Expectation
for the houri has taught everything to the preacher
Only in
appearance simple and straight forward these people are
Why should
not my verses be dear to me, O Iqbal
These the painful laments of my
heart are
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