Durr-e-Sameen

Along every avenue of spiritual yearning I pored my thought;
The remotest like of Prophet Mohammad's faith was found not
Searched near, search afar, and searched even beyond the realm of sight;
Ever mindful to do so with all my might

No religion could hither be brought;
Wherein spiritual signs could be seen or sought
But harmony was found, and all was set aright;
When, from the Prophet's garden, I ate sweet fruit—a delight

Trying Islam for myself has been my happy lot;
It is pure light, one which erases every besmirching blot
Arise, I say, to its luminous sight;
There, I have told you sincerely, I've told you outright

Other faiths—I examined them all—had no light, the whole lot;
Mere conjectures abounded, wherewith they were fraught
Come and show if ever the truth I've tried to blight;
Doing so—hiding the truth—would simply not be right

I tire, at times, of saying the same things, even as I continue to exhort;
The message remains the same—the themes, though, I assort
In every which direction I issued forth the arrows of invite;
Shot forth the arrows from my quiver, by day and by night

Nobody rose to the challenge, though I laid the gauntlet athwart;
Nobody, but nobody, dared rise to the challenge thus wrought
Invited though I did—all opponents—in broad daylight;
They did not come, perhaps facing the truth caused them fright

Alas, they slumber the sleep of ignorance, caring nought;
Not realizing what's at stake, alas, what is being fought
From your slumber you awake not, O spiritual Luddite;
Heedless you are, your torpor shames the night

Burn in the inferno of malice and distrust they all do, the whole lot;
In that, they are as one, even as they mingle and consort
Desist they do not, such is their vengeance, so venomous their spite;
Spurning my entreaties to cease, they ceaselessly plot and incite

O people! Come hither and receive your luminance, your spiritual passport;
This is what you need, this is what ought to be sought
There, I have showed you the path of the upright;
Of true solace and comfort that'll relieve your plight

Today, this humble man is filled with spiritual lights that do shimmer and cavort;
They have suffused my very being—they surround me and everywhere do escort
It is perhaps a passage, intimations of a spiritual rite;
That my very existence has been lit, shone through outright

Ever since my good fortune in the Prophet's light falling to my lot;
Ever since then those glorious moments—methought
I have evermore relished to reunite;
My very being, with The Source of Eternal Light

May Your infinite Peace and Mercy on the Prophet be brought;
For, without him, I couldn't have received aught of what I got
It is through his aegis that I was showered with the splendor of light;
From Him, from Our Creator, Who sustains and gives spiritual sight

For my being to resonate with the life of Prophet Mohammad, thus so have I my Lord besought;
My life without him is nought—the blessed Prophet is all I got
My spiritual thirst was, in his obedience, quaffed—a delight;
In him I saw daylight when all else was gloomy night

I scoured the universe, undertook searches both focused and scattershot;
Having found him, my searches I brought to a close, and not merely abort
Innocuously enough, and guiltlessly so, from all else I untwined my heart aright;
Did so, though nothing warranted guilt or being contrite

I was turned into an object of others' derision—no rhyme or reason, sans plot;
With scorn of me, their sentiments were evidently shot
Ever since I put the Prophet's love at my heart's foundational site;
Layers of his love I put at my heart's core, which perhaps is what my opponents' anger did incite

Conceited and vain is my messianic claim—is what they've said, is what they've thought;
Bewildered I was by their antics, even as from afar I watched
Deceitful and insane, they called my ways, and deemed them as not right;
As if I had foisted upon the day's light the gloom of night

Called me an infidel, a heretic, and an Antichrist—even as their lips did contort;
Is this the end of their minds' tether, is this all they got?;
Such, such are they abusive names heaped on my blameless plight;
Servile and vile their defamation, one perhaps that is futile with to fight

Being made the target of abuses should have remained in the realm of the unthought;
But I patiently listen, reciprocating instead with well-wishes, doing what my Lord has taught
My mercy, as I face them, is at its zenith—at its height;
In the hopes of staving off their spiritual twilight

I swear by you, my beloved Prophet, even as I stand distraught;
All that I've stood for, all that for which I've fought
It is but for you, O blessed Prophet, for whom I've set my life alight;
I weather the enemies' blows for you, even as they sting and smite;

Your love permeates my every iota, as ever, by default;
Much as yonder ocean is permeated by brine and by salt
In my breast, the bond of our love is so tight;
Wherefore I can say sincerely that an entire realm indwells alright

Row upon row of opponents I took on in the realm of argumentative assault;
Vanquishing them beyond certainty, such as none could fault
Showing therefore, and perforce—it's not the sword, but the use of the pen wherewith I write
Not with physical blows, but with arguments—does one—opponents smite

And to which course did I not resort?;
That your spiritual brilliance—in its shining be made known—all else but nought
Certifying the might of the sword, I defeated my opponents, saw their schemes ablaze alright;
Obliterated their dreams, reducing them to the flimsiness of an untethered kite

Nay, I effaced my own self, subduing and cooling it like becalmed frost;
Effacing my own self in your love till it was erased, till it was lost
Every iota of myself did I scatter and blamelessly indict;
Immolated, as it were—my personal desires as I set them afire—and did ignite

Your cellar of spiritual drinks, O Prophet, has thus wrought;
The burgeoning realization of your splendor—that all else is nought
Finding the cellar thus, I zealously imbibed each and every spiritual delight;
Feeling felt, the unthought known raveled into place—my love did requite

The glory of Our Maker do I see in you, methought;
O blessed and beloved Prophet, the unlettered, the untaught
In finding you did I with Our Maker reunite;
My spirits soared, my soul felt the flight

Taking refuge in your cloistered sanctuary is the emancipation to be sought;
Freedom from worldly shackles to be gained thereby, and—for the heart—life-support
Guiltless, I, at your threshold, nonetheless, lowered my head, humbly contrite
My devotion to you—I trust—my actions speak to and do recite

O beloved Prophet! I swear and dutifully report;
Your gloriously-lived message is unrivaled—all that you have taught
So as to reduce my own existence to the margins, to the trite;
Your love furnishes all, it does surely enlight

By God, the tracks and footprints of others stand effaced, reduced to nought;
This transpired during my journey to you—with my soul—wherewith you I sought
Your splendor reigns glorious, ever shines in my sight;
Affixed—nay, transfixed—immovably so, foremost in my sight

In seeing you, I was—by the splendor of your spirituality—overwrought;
But I knew the sighting had to be gained at any cost
Fortified thus, therewith I set all devils alight;
Set the devils afire, reduced them to ashes—to mere scattered blight

O leader of prophets! I became the best in the nation, purely by following what you have taught;
Your ineffable glory leaves the imagination in a state of overwhelm, of glorious exhaust
Wholly in your obedience did I take each step forward, stepping aright;
Following you remained ever the goal, ever in sight

Let alone humans, even the angels do resort;
To sing your praises, attuned to the song I offer—the one I've humbly wrought
Yes, the angels, too,  praise you and recite;
Singing your praises with words that I did write

O benighted nation of mine, you beleaguer me with troubles as would overrun a massive vault;
Vex me even as you do, I will ever keep the Prophet's message aloft;
Vexed mercilessly by them, though, I do have to—O Prophet—make known my plight;
Wherefore, and most humbly, in your court—O Prophet—this plaintive message I did recite.

A Tribute to Islam and to its Founder (Urdu)