Qaum ne paiġhām-e-gautam kī zarā parvā na kī
The nation could not care less about Gautama’s message—
qadr pahchānī na apne gauhar-e-yak-dāna kī
It did not know the price of its unique pearl!
aah bad-qismat rahe āvāz-e-haq se be-ḳhabar
Poor wretches! They never heard the voice of truth:
ġhāfil apne phal kī shīrīnī se hotā hai shajar
A tree does not know how sweet its fruit is.
āshkār us ne kiyā jo zindagī kā raaz thā
What he revealed was the secret of existence,
hind ko lekin ḳhayālī falsafa par naaz thā
But India was proud of its fancies;
sham-e-haq se jo munavvar ho ye vo mahfil na thī
It was not an assembly‐hall to be lit up by the lamp of truth;
bārish-e-rahmat huī lekin zamīñ qābil na thī
The rain of mercy fell, but the land was barren.
aah shūdar ke liye hindostāñ ġham-ḳhāna hai
Alas, for the shudra India is a house of sorrow,
dard-e-insānī se is bastī kā dil begāna hai
This land is blind to the sufferings of man.
barhaman sarshār hai ab tak mai-e-pindār meñ
The Brahmin is still drunk with the wine of pride,
sham-e-gautam jal rahī hai mahfil-e-aġhyār meñ
In the assembly‐halls of foreigners burns Gautama’s lamp.
but-kada phir baad muddat ke magar raushan huā
But, ages later, the house of idols was lit up again–
nūr-e-ibrāhīm se aazar kā ghar raushan huā
Azar’s house was lit up by Abraham!
phir uThī āḳhir sadā tauhīd kī punjab se
Again from the Punjab the call of monotheism arose:
hind ko ik mard-e-kāmil ne jagāyā ḳhvāb se
A perfect man roused India from slumber.
The nation could not care less about Gautama’s message—
qadr pahchānī na apne gauhar-e-yak-dāna kī
It did not know the price of its unique pearl!
aah bad-qismat rahe āvāz-e-haq se be-ḳhabar
Poor wretches! They never heard the voice of truth:
ġhāfil apne phal kī shīrīnī se hotā hai shajar
A tree does not know how sweet its fruit is.
āshkār us ne kiyā jo zindagī kā raaz thā
What he revealed was the secret of existence,
hind ko lekin ḳhayālī falsafa par naaz thā
But India was proud of its fancies;
sham-e-haq se jo munavvar ho ye vo mahfil na thī
It was not an assembly‐hall to be lit up by the lamp of truth;
bārish-e-rahmat huī lekin zamīñ qābil na thī
The rain of mercy fell, but the land was barren.
aah shūdar ke liye hindostāñ ġham-ḳhāna hai
Alas, for the shudra India is a house of sorrow,
dard-e-insānī se is bastī kā dil begāna hai
This land is blind to the sufferings of man.
barhaman sarshār hai ab tak mai-e-pindār meñ
The Brahmin is still drunk with the wine of pride,
sham-e-gautam jal rahī hai mahfil-e-aġhyār meñ
In the assembly‐halls of foreigners burns Gautama’s lamp.
but-kada phir baad muddat ke magar raushan huā
But, ages later, the house of idols was lit up again–
nūr-e-ibrāhīm se aazar kā ghar raushan huā
Azar’s house was lit up by Abraham!
phir uThī āḳhir sadā tauhīd kī punjab se
Again from the Punjab the call of monotheism arose:
hind ko ik mard-e-kāmil ne jagāyā ḳhvāb se
A perfect man roused India from slumber.
