The Himalyas
(Iqbal’s Himala)
Stanza- I
O
the Himalyas! O the wall of the territory of India,
The
heavens bows to kiss thy forehead,
Sign
of aging is not found in thee,
Thou
art young between the cycle of dusk and dawn,
Mount
Sinai was a site of divine refulgence for Moses,
Thou
art sign of God’s power of creation for the intellectual,
Stanza-II
In the outward examination thou
art a mountainous tract,
Thou
art our guardian and great wall of India,
Thou
art a collection of odes whose exordium is the sky,
Thou
draws humans towards thy place of retirement of hearts,
The
snow has fastened the turban of honour on thy head,
Which ridicules the halo of the world-illuminating sun,
Stanza-III
One
moment of thy past life is the olden times,
Black clouds are camping in thy valleys,
Thy
peaks are busy talking to the Pleiades,
Thou
art on the earth and expanse of heavens is thy home,
Streams rising from thy foot have
reflecting surface,
Waves of blowing winds keep cleaning the fluid,
Stanza-IV
Cloud
is riding the wave of the wind with,
The
whip of lightning in hand given by mountains,
O the
Himalyas! Thou too art a playground which,
Has
been made by nature for the four elements,
Ah!
The cloud is moving swaying to and fro in ecstatic mood,
The cloud is flying like the
unchained elephant,
Stanza-V
Movement
of wave of morning is cradle,
Every flower-bud rocks in ecstasy,
Though silence of lip of petal is saying
I
haven’t ever seen the instaneous pick of the flower-gatherer,
My
silence is telling my story,
The
secluded corner of nature is my abode,
Stanza- VI
Stream comes down singing from tip of mountain,
Analogous to heavenly canals of Kausar
and Tasneem,
Showing the mirror-like to the lover of the nature,
Occasionally avoiding and dashing against stones en route,
While
going play the impressive Iraq-mode,
O the
traveller! Heart understands thy voice,
Stanza- VII
When
evening comes and darkness sets in,
The
noise of water-falls attracts the heart,
That
silence of evening is preferable to conversation,
That
ecstatic estate of thoughtfulness overcast on trees,
The redness
of twilight rocks on mountainous range,
This
powder on thy cheeks appears beautiful,
Stanza- VIII
O the
Himalyas! Tell the story of that times,
When
ancient humans settled on thy foot,
Tell
something of that life of simplicity,
On
which there was no mark of powder of formality,
Well,
show me O contemplation! Again that dusk and dawn,
Run
backwards O the vicissitudes of fortune.
(Suggestions invited for betterment)
e-Book publishers! attention pleas.
e-Book publishers! attention pleas.
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