Our Pride. Our Prestige

O Praised One, By the One and Only One, With the message of Iqra‘, The 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 was 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 does make me faint. Your desire breaks my voice When, about you, my words rise. O Allah! Jaihoon lacks a wealth of deeds To save him from the Fire that feeds. All he has is a bleeding heart, Throbbing with the prayers he reads. Dec 10 2002. Edit 2026