Sunday, October 25, 2009

O withered Rose ~ ~ Allama Iqbal

- - - -
O withered rose! How can I still call you a rose?
How can I call you the longing of nightingale's heart?

Once the zephyr's movement was your rocking cradle
In the garden's expanse joyous rose was your name

The morning breeze acknowledged your benevolence
The garden was like perfumer's tray by your presence

My weeping eye sheds dew on you
My desolate heart is concealed in your sorrow

You are a tiny picture of my destruction
You are the interpretation of my life's dream

Like a flute1 to my reed-brake I narrate my story
Listen O rose! I complain about separations!

English Translation of Poem of Allama Iqbal in Bange Dara


  1. hi - thanks for the comment on my blog. the comment area in your 'pak education' blog didn't work. nice writing here. keep it up.

  2. You are a tiny picture of my destruction. I like that. :)