Dunya Mein Ab Rahi Nahin Talwar Kargar
This is an age, our canonist’s new dictum assures us, of the pen:
In our world now the sword has no more virtue.—
Masjid Mein Ab Ye Waaz Hai Besood-o-Be-Asar
Has it not reached our pious oracle’s ear,
That in the Mosque such sermonizing nowadays has grown rhyme-less and reason-less?
Ho Bhi, To Dil Hain Mout Ki Lazzat Se Be-Khabar
Where, in a Muslim’s hand, Will he find dagger or rifle?
And if there were, Our hearts have lost all memory of delight
Kehta Hai Kon Usse Ke Musalman Ki Mout Mer
In death. to one whose nerves falter at even an infidel cut down,
Who would exclaim ‘Die like a Muslim!’
Dunya Ko Jis Ke Panja-e-Khoonain Se Ho Khatar
Preach relinquishment of such crusades to him
Whose bloody fist menaces earth!
Yourap Zira Mein Doob Gya Dosh Ta Kamar
Europe, swathed cap‐a‐pie in mail,
Mounts guard over her glittering reign of falsehood;
Mashriq Mein Jang Shar Hai To Maghrib Mein Bhi Hai Shar
We enquire of our divine, So tender of Christendom:
If for the East war is unhallowed, Is not war unhallowed for Western arms?
Islam Ka Muhasiba, Yourap Se Darguzar!
And if your goal be truth, Is this the right road—
Europe’s faults all glossed, and all Islam’s held to so strict an audit?