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Saif-ul-Malook | Mian Muhammad Baksh -2/8

November 7, 2009 by qausain

Selected poetry from Hazrat Mian Muhammad Baksh Saheb’s “Saif-ul-Malook”. English translation by Khamosh Tamashai.

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Iqbal Bahu:

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“Saif-ul-Malook”

(Part 2 of 8 )

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Remembering the beloved again again, they eat, frying pieces of their liver,
Like a fruit drink, from the hands of the beloved, they drink the cups of poison.

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During the night they cry continuously, washing off sleep from their eyes,
In the morning, they are called the humble ones, and consider themselves lower then everybody.

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This body of send of yours contains gold inside it, which can’t be seen except,
When you wash pouring water of your tears, the sand and dirt washes off.

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Placing the rope of sorrows around your neck, pull the ‘madhani’ with (the rope of) his remembrance,
With courage, O Muhammad Baksh, soul has acquired the butter.

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Life… Life is a false pretext, death is standing overhead,
Tens of millions prettier than you have gone to sleep in the ground.

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Whoever did not buy love, they came here useless,
Without love, O Muhammad Baksh, what are men? what are dogs?

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Without love, faith is incomplete; people say “may your faith preserve”,
To live through dying is the characteristics of love, every breath is the doomsday.

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If we perform a hundred thousands acts of piety and worship, without love of what use?
As long as love doesn’t burn you, friendship cannot be complete.

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Who don’t have the pain of love, how can they attain the fruit of sight?
If Allah grants the ailment of love, there is no need for any medication.

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When your own remembers you, you will wean off all other acquaintances,
Father, mother, friends; all will be forgotten, neither will there be any longing for sisters and brothers.

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Everybody knows about the light spot: in front of us is the darkness of grave,
Alone, by itself in the wilderness, which will be the adobe forever.

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For knowledge, humans have come to the world,
With knowledge one recognize one’s self, otherwise it is an animal.

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Without the command it cannot escape if it makes a hundred preparations,
The bird is feeling restricted is the cage, but how can it fly?

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If mother is happy, God is happy, the foremost guide is mother,
Thank God you are still happy, and also the honor stands.

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He dose not hesitate from spending, He gifts without being asked,
To the ones who asks, O Muhammad Baksh, He honors by bestowing wealth.

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The infant which, with affection, we carry on our side,
Even if soils the shirt, we do not strike on the ground.

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The hands are trembling terribly, you turned them into a swing,
This swing, O naive one, asks you to let go off others belongings.

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World did not accompany anybody from here, everybody wen alone one after another,
Those are better who kept their clothes clear of this dirt.

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The aliens walked away barefooted, all mixed into the dirt after they died,
Say why the arrogance, O Muhammad Baksh? stay humble and afraid.