O Lord! I have become weary of human assemblages!
When the heart is sad no pleasure in assemblages can be

I seek escape from tumult, my heart desires
The silence which speech may ardently love!

I vehemently desire silence, I strongly long that
A small hut in the mountain’s side may there be

Freed from worry I may live in retirement
Freed from the cares of the world I may be

Birds’ chirping may give the pleasure of the lyre
In the spring’s noise may the orchestra’s melody be

The flower bud bursting may give God’s message to me
Showing the whole world to me this small wine‐cup may be


My arm may be my pillow, and the green grass my bed be
Putting the congregation to shame my solitude’s quality be


The nightingale be so familiar with my face that
Her little heart harboring no fear from me may be

Avenues of green trees standing on both sides be
The spring’s clear water providing a beautiful picture be

Avenues of green trees standing on both sides be
The spring’s clear water providing a beautiful picture be

The view of the mountain range may be so beautiful
To see it the waves of water again and again rising be


The verdure may be asleep in the lap of the earth
Water running through the bushes may glistening be

Again and again the flowered boughs touching the water be
As if some beauty looking at itself in mirror be

When the sun apply myrtle to the evening’s bride
The tunic of every flower may pinkish golden be

When night’s travelers falter behind with fatigue
Their only hope my broken earthenware lamp may be


May the lightning lead them to my hut
When clouds hovering over the whole sky be.


The early dawn’s cuckoo, that morning’s mu’adhdhin
May my confidante he be, and may his confidante I be

May I not be obligated to the temple or to the mosque
May the hut’s hole alone herald of morning’s arrival be


When the dew may come to perform the flowers’ ablution
May wailing my supplication, weeping my ablution be

In this silence may my heart’s wailing rise so high
That for stars’ caravan the clarion’s call my wailing be


May every compassionate heart weeping with me be
Perhaps it may awaken those who may unconscious be

Allama Iqbal



#allamaiqbal #urdupoetry #poetry