This poem was translated by Professor Carlo Coppola as part of the MULOSIGE Translations project. You can explore our collection of Urdu Poetry here.
Qayāmat / Doomsday
No one knows why the immortal palace
Is indifferent,
Why a worthless teardrop
Enjoys repute.
.
Let friends play:
Would that the minarets of light,
Moons, skies and stars
Break and scatter.
From the mountains, plains and rivers
Rises a tremulous voice:
O immortal God, Your sovereignty is brief.
.
Let the darkness of ages
Be washed by light,
By the brook of life sprout forth,
By a new sun
In the fresh sky,
On the shoulders of Life.
The coffin of Death.
.
From: Yāden̲ (Remembrances), 1963. pp. 96 – 97
No one knows why the immortal palace
Is indifferent,
Why a worthless teardrop
Enjoys repute.
.
Let friends play:
Would that the minarets of light,
Moons, skies and stars
Break and scatter.
From the mountains, plains and rivers
Rises a tremulous voice:
O immortal God, Your sovereignty is brief.
.
Let the darkness of ages
Be washed by light,
By the brook of life sprout forth,
By a new sun
In the fresh sky,
On the shoulders of Life.
The coffin of Death.
.
From: Yāden̲ (Remembrances), 1963. pp. 96 – 97
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