Two Poems by Muhammed Iqbal (1877-1938)
Bright Rose
You cannot loosen the heart’s knot,
perhaps you have no heart
no share in the turmoil
of this garden where I yearn
but gather no roses.
Of what use is wisdom to me?
Once out of the garden,
you are at peace. I am anxious,
scorched as I search.
Even Jamshed’s empty cup
foretold the future,
may wine never touch my lips,
open circle in a mirror.
Withered Rose
By what words can I deem you
desire of the nightingale’s heart?
The morning breeze was your cradle,
garden a tray of perfumes.
My tears rain like dew,
and in my barren heart your ruin
an emblem of mine.
My life a dream of roses.
Trans-created from the original Urdu by Rafiq Kathwari / @brownpundit.