FROM. Bal-i-Jibril. THIRTEEN GHAZALS. Translation A. A. Shah. میری نوائے شوق سے شور حریمِ ذات میں اگر کج رَو ہیں انجم، آسماں تیرا ہے یا میرا گیسوئے تاب دار. Get this from a library! Bal-i Jibril.. [Muhammad Iqbal, Sir]. Read Book Bal-e-Jibril ebooks by Allama Iqbal on Rekhta Urdu books library. Navigate to next page by clicking on the book or click the arrows for previous and.


Author: Miss Brock Price
Country: Saint Lucia
Language: English
Genre: Education
Published: 6 March 2016
Pages: 455
PDF File Size: 13.34 Mb
ePub File Size: 14.1 Mb
ISBN: 872-4-54894-539-2
Downloads: 81943
Price: Free
Uploader: Miss Brock Price


Bal-i-Jibril: Allama Iqbal: : Books

Bal e jibril me there runs a streak of sin, I am a stranger to this inn; But hosts of heaven with all their might Could not set this Chaos right. This world of Bal e jibril on its shaking founds, Lay bare, with unbroken grounds. It is indebted to my love for toil That has adorned and peopled its soil.

The orchard that has no danger, Where lies no ambushed hunter, Ill sorts with the dauntless mind Which is to risks and hazards blind.

The lofty state of passions strong Is out of the grasp of angels' throng: Only they retain it in their hold, Bal e jibril much can dare and eke are bold. What can the love of man avail, Whose life like glass is short and frail: How can a mortal's love accord With God, the Everlasting Lord?

The love whose heat and flame are lost With Death's single icy blast, To suspense and fret has no claim, Like the love that is all aflame.

My strength and reach are no more Than a moment's breath and roar: How can a faint and tiny spark With 'Blazing Flame' on war bal e jibril

Bal e Jibril by Allama Iqbal

First of all, on me bestow A deathless life with constant glow, And Thou bal e jibril see the zeal and zest Of restless heart within my breast. A thorn within my breast infix To make me feel its prods and pricks: My scattered dust charged with love The shape of heart may take at last: O God, the grief that bowed me then, May press me low as in the past!

The maids of Eden by their charm. May arouse my urge for song: The bal e jibril of love that burns in me, May fire the zeal of Celestial Throng!


The pilgrim's bal e jibril can dwell at times, On spots and stages left behind: My heed for spots and places crossed, From the quest may turn my mind! By the mighty force of love, I am turned to Boundless deep: I fear that my self-regard, Me, for aye, on shore may keep 5.

My hectic search for aim and end, In life that smell and hue doth lack, May get renown like lover's tale, Bal e jibril riding went on litter's track! The rise of clay-born man hath struck The Hosts of Heaven with utter fright: They dread that this fallen star, To moon may wax with fuller light!

Bal-i-Jibril: Allama Iqbal: : Books

Bal e jibril Self of man is ocean vast, And knows no depth or bound: If you take it for a stream, How can your mind be sound? The magic of this whirling dome We can set at naught: Not of stones but of glass Its building has been wrought. In holy trance in Self we drown, And up we rise again; But how a worthless man can show So much might and main?

Your rank and state cannot be told By one who reads the stars: The style may not he vivid and lively, still Quatrains All potent wine is emptied of Thy cask Make our hearts the seats of mercy and love Bal e jibril are the ways in the holy precinct O wave!