Our Pride. Our Prestige

O Praised One
By the One and Only One

With the message of Iqra‘
Lord chose you as His Rasool

Towards you is our Hijrah
O dear father of Zahra Batool

You are our pride and prestige
At a time when there’s no refuge

Our feeble leaders
Have left us in the lurch

Serving us the drink:
The State is distant from the Church

You became the talk
Of the earth and heaven
Ever since the right
Of Kawthar to you were given

How much to praise you?
How much to love you?

Believe this sinner, O my Leader
All my love I long to show you

Though not a miraculous saint
Your love do make me faint

Your desire breaks my voice
When about you my words rise

O Allah!
Jaihoon has not with him much noble deeds,
Save him which will from the Fire man-feeds

All he has is a tiny heart that bleeds
Blessings when upon YOUR Beloved he reads

December 11th 2002