Iqbal's Persian Masterpiece, Secrets of the Self [Asrar-i Khudi], in translation

[naqshbandijamaati]

:s1:

Of all of the Allamah's works, this is arguably the greatest and profoundest and it is given in full translation (by Nicholson) at the site below:

http://www.sacred-texts.com/isl/iq/index.htm

Sadly, this book (in translation) is generally out of print. It is on a level similar to the Iliad or The Masnavi and yet we have let it go out of print :-(

An excerpt:

My own age does not understand my deep meanings,
My Joseph is not for this market.
I despair of my old companions,
My Sinai burns for sake of the Moses who is coming.
Their sea is silent, like dew,
40 But my dew is storm-ridden, like the ocean.
My song is of another world than theirs:
This bell calls other travellers to take the road.
How many a poet after his death
Opened our eyes when his own were closed,
45 And journeyed forth again from nothingness
When roses blossomed o’er the earth of his grave!
Albeit caravans have passed through this desert,
They passed, as a camel steps, with little sound.