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A Muslim true gets grandeur new with moment's change and every hour: By words and deeds he gives a proof of Mighty God, His reach and power. This secret yet none has grasped that Muslim Scripture reads so sweet: Practising rules by it prescribed, becomes its pattern quite complete.

Such thoughts that shine like lustrous stars my brain, like workshop, can provide: You can select the star you like, so that your Fate this star may guide! Leave not one of the disbelievers' had.

Awaken in them an iron will, And make their eye a sharpened sword. The sun has risen over the horizon; the time of deep slumber has passed. Pearls are produced in abundance from the very bufetings of the sea. Note: The italicized line is translated from the poet Uri Shirazi. Make every particle of the garden a martyr to search!

Pearls will be born again in the sea of the Friend of God. For the dawn arises from the blood of a hundred thousand stars. You are the inal message of God; you are eternal.

You belong to Abraham; you are the builder of the world. You will be asked to do the work of taking on responsibility for the world. Let neither Turanians, Iranians nor Afghan remain. What was it that erased the tyranny of Caesar and Cyrus? The power of Hyder R. By the glance of the man who is a true believer even destiny is changed. Only commentaries on one small point of faith.

Sakht Hain Fitrat Ki Taazirain The distinction of servant and lord has put mankind into turmoil; Beware, oh powerful ones; the penalties of nature are harsh.

Urne Se Pehle Par-Fishan Ho Ja Your wings and your plumage are soiled with the dust of colour and race; You, my bird of the holy shrine, shake your wings before you start to ly. Khudi Mein Doob Ja Ghail! The song of the bird of the garden has come from the branches; The spring has come; the beloved has come; peace has come! For the army of singers has come drove upon drove.

Dgar Shakh-E-Khalil A. Let us split open the roof of the heavens and think upon new ways. Through its modulations, the Ininite demonstrates the parameters of possibilities. Death is your ultimate destiny, Death is my ultimate destiny. Frail and evanescent, all miracles of ingenuity, Transient, all temporal attainments; Ephemeral, all worldly accomplishments. Extinction, the fate of everything; Hidden or manifest, old or new.

Love is the messenger of God. Love is the Word of God. Love is the heady wine, Love is the grand goblet. Love is the light of life, Love is the ire of life. Ae Haram-E-Qurtuba! The miracle of art springs from the lifeblood of the artist! My plaint kindles the soul. You draw the hearts to the Presence Divine, I inspire them to bloom and blossom. Despite the limit of azure skies, Ordained for this handful of dust.

My lute is the serenade of longing. Every ibre of my being Resonates with the refrains of Allah hoo! You are beautiful and majestic. He too is beautiful and majestic. The Muslim is destined to last as his Azan holds the key to the mysteries of the perennial message of Abraham and Moses.

Tigris, Danube and Nile: Billows of his oceanic expanse. Fascinating, the accounts of his achievements! He it was, who bade the inal adieu To the outworn order. Under the shadow of lashing scimitars, 'La Ilah' is his protection. His contented self has no demands on this world or the other. But whether in fray or in social gathering, Ever chaste at heart, ever clean in conduct. All else: illusion, sorcery, fallacy. An inspiration in the cosmic communion.

Kaaba Arbab-E-Fan! You have elevated Andalusia To the eminence of the holy Harem. Aah Woh Mardan-E-Haq! And darts shooting out of those eyes, Even today, are on target.

Its music, even today, Carries strains of melodies from Hijaz. Your porticoes have not resonated With the call of the muezzin. Reason, once more, unfurled its sails. A Divine secret it is, Not for the lips to utter. Let us see what surfaces from the depths of the deep. Let us see what color, The blue sky changes into. The parting sun has left behind mounds and mounds of rubies, the best from Badakhshan.

The tumult and turmoil of revolution, Keep the soul of a nation alive. Soulless is the melody without the lifeblood of the maestro. Drip like tears from the eye of the moth Head to foot pathos I am, full of longing is my story Elahi! Na Marg-e-Naghaan Meri! O God! What is the pleasure of living so in this world? Ye Khamoshi Kahan Tak? Create taste for complaint!

You should be on the earth, so your cries be in the heavens! O imprudent one! Rehna It is best for you not to remain indiferent to yours own O apathetic person! Dua Prayer poem10 Ya Rab! Make us long again for beautiful sights, and create in us the urge to make demands. Give us the calm and poise of the shore, But the freedom of the sea. I wish that my prayer would have efect—Give to a beggar, bounteous Lord!

The secret which silence had concealed will be unveiled now. Time has gone when wine was taken secretly. That was the One you showed us as a thousand If this is your state what will be your credibility? Even winking is a sin What will our respect be if you will be restless here? Your voice causes much despair—quiet! Hum Nasheen! I believe in the destiny of my Millat My Community! Merely a topic of theology. Neither mullah nor faqih envisages the fact that Unity of thought without unity of action is imperfect.

What is a nation, or how to lead it? When the heart sees clear vision, the fates that rule earth wear no veil. What thing is the State Or why must labour and capital so bloodily disagree? Witness of enduring life is this unending toil and haste! My forgetful one, put forward something you have accomplished, if you have anything written on your scroll.

Doobe Huay Taron Ka Matam Kab Talak From the womb of this old universe a new red sun is born— For extinguished stars, of heaven, how much longer will you mourn? Where the lamp of your own spirit shines, there let your dwelling be.

Nothing of the burning and making of the Muslims is hidden from me. Do not bring your request before Solomon. Hushyar Bash Ah you who cannot distinguish the hidden from the revealed, become aware!

You, caught up in Abu Bakr and Ali, become aware! Now control your heart a little and see the efect of the lament. And what are the sun and the starry heavens?

The vastness of this desert ills me with fright. But pray tell me if it is by your permission That the angels bestow riches upon the worthless ones? What is the originality of thought and action? O Great Rome! Your conscience has changed altogether: Is this a dream I see or is this for real! Whose benevolent eye has graced this miracle upon you? He whose vision is like the light of the Sun!

One faqr is Shabiri, and it has qualities of emperor Which is Muslim heritage and real wealth of Shabir. Where have you come leaving me there? Tere Aanasuon Ne Bhujaya Issay! I do not hear those lovely sounds in my cage now May it happen that my freedom be in my own hands now! I fear lest I die in this cage with this woe grief!

You taught it, what rites of love? The creature circles around your lare. How burnt in your lash of sight! Life endures in your ardour bright? The moth with its urge to envisage the lame! You penetrate the secret of existence, But 1 see it with my eyes.

My status is so high— I am the throne of the God of Majesty! What is that melody worth, which hides itself in the silent chords of the harp. Bereave not of its moon my night; I see a full moon in your goblet shine, oh Saki!

Ae Muslaman! Either bereft of life I drop, or the Wheel of Fate must stop. Perhaps some magic in thy air Has breathed into my song The buoyancy of youth. But why, complain? Breathe deeply and let all stress and striving go. To help either bookmark this page or print the exercise out. You may begin to hear your Lord speaking words to you. You will need to learn to get in touch with your heart, and you can do that by practicing these awareness tips.

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Thank you! Comparing this with the dryness of Western literature and its seemingly antiseptic view when it comes to human sexual behaviour, we see an astonishingly liberated and enlightened view in the East towards sexual desire. Lance Dane, who wrote one of the finest commentaries on the Kamasutra by a Westerner, has much to say about this fact. The unabashed directness of his confrontation of sexual relations, the subtleties of his perceptions of feeling, mood and emotion, the delicacy of the nuances of love rendered by a mind, freed from all fears, inhibitions and awkwardnesses of the accepting routine society, have rarely been seen in any civilization.

It is almost as if this sage shared the new kind of perception of the poetry of imperceptible feelings, which the Gupta bards were to bring to their creations along with their awareness of the life of action and conflict and stress on the earth, in the here and the now, in the flesh and the blood, in the search for harmony. The strange thing is, we feel no shock, when we are ushered from the overtly non-sexual context of our daily lives into the very heart of the privacies of sex.

There is no tittering reaction. There is hardly any trace of the boring soul-less life of the brothel. In this view, Dane does not differ from prior translators of the Vatsyayana Kamasutra, including Forster Fitzgerald Arbuthnot and his collaboration with the nineteenth century Richard Francis Burton.

Jayamangala of Yashodhara, the 13th century commentator of the text was also a well-known authority, however his works are more oriented towards the society of that time. Dane stands out from these translations however, in providing a historic context to understanding the text, and compares it to traditions in other parts of the world. Why are these unions, recommended by Vatsyayana, different from the kind of furtive connection which takes place from complete ignorance of the feelings of each other, and from the denial of the body-souls, by those who are ashamed of the dream tryst?

But the image is more abstract than concrete. In the early Empires of the Hittites, Babylonians and the Pharaohs, in the cults presided over by the God-King, the ritual confined the freedom of human beings to express themselves, by worship of sex on the altars of the temple. But, beyond the shrines, the people resorted to secret practices, evolving sub myths for their inexpressible desires, in the spontaneous liberation of their body-souls.

In our Indian civilization, the Mother Goddess began, more and more, to be personified as yoni, as we see it in the figurines of Ahichchatra, Kausambi, Nevasa, Bhita, Pataliputra and before long, she appears with her mate, as in the human couples in love of the Mauryan and Sunga terracottas.

The exuberant poetry of the Rigveda, seems to have familiarised the myth of creation of the world. In the Upanishads the imagery was more concrete. The mating of man and woman became holy sacrifice: The woman is the fire, her womb the fuel, the invitation to man the smoke, the door is the flame, entering the embrace, pleasure the spark.

In this fire the Gods form the offering, From this offering springs forth the child. Brihadaranyaka Upanishad. In the two great epics of India, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, which recreate the desire images of what men and women ought to be, we see the spontaneous urges of the people for free love, and the worship of sex symbols, as the sources of fulfilment, transformed into a prescribed ritual as part of the Hindu Dharmic order.

These habitual repetitions had for centuries made the Slokas, verses, more and more rigid. The caste order imposed on the Dasyus had ironed out the variety of ways of life. The high-bred fictions of super-consciousness led to Mount Kailash in the mists. Below, the Dasyus worshipped the Mother Goddess in secret. She came to be called Lajja Gauri, Shy Woman, with her head cut off, replaced by a garland of leaves, creepers and red oxide of mercury on her pudenda and breasts, and she was prayed to for children in forest shrines, away from the vigilance of the high priests.

The Kamasutra was probably first put into writing in the third century before Christ, during the Mauryan Period. At this time, some of the great sages seem to have taken an interest in love and sexuality, integral aspects of family life. Vatsyayana obviously did not write the Kamasutra himself. Love-making was alive and well in India long before him.



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