This Soul-Cherishing Whisper
by Shabbir Hasan Khan Josh
On our tongue is the talk of high values,
but our thoughts are low . . .
The enemy is on our head
but we are fighting among ourselves . . .
In the cold, bleak atmosphere of night
I hear a whisper
like the soft humming of the breeze
when it passes beneath the stem of a fern,
or the gentle flutter of the wings of Gabriel from heaven,
or the distant patter of rain heard in a dream,
or the mysterious awakening of the melodies of the stream by the dawn,
or the soft murmur of air in a vast desert . . .
but our thoughts are low . . .
The enemy is on our head
but we are fighting among ourselves . . .
In the cold, bleak atmosphere of night
I hear a whisper
like the soft humming of the breeze
when it passes beneath the stem of a fern,
or the gentle flutter of the wings of Gabriel from heaven,
or the distant patter of rain heard in a dream,
or the mysterious awakening of the melodies of the stream by the dawn,
or the soft murmur of air in a vast desert . . .
How describe (the significance of) this soul-cherishing whisper?
Though dormant, the East is eagerly awaiting the morrow,
The soul of Asia is ready to be awakened.
The soul of Asia is ready to be awakened.
Translated from the Urdu by G. Yazdani