لينن
English title: LENIN BEFORE GOD
All space and all that breathes bear witness; truth it is indeed; Thou art, and dost remain.
How could I know that God was or was not, | Where Reason's reckonings shifted hour by hour?
The peerer at planets, the counter-up of plants, | Heard nothing there of Nature's infinite music;
To-day I witnessing acknowledge realms | That I once thought the mummery of the Church.
We, manacled in the chains of day and night! Thou, moulder of all time's atoms, builder of aeons.
Let me have leave to ask this question, one | Not answered by the subtleties of the schools,
That while I lived under the sky-tent's roof | Like a thorn rankled in my heart, and made
Such chaos in my soul of all its thoughts | I could not keep my tumbling words in bounds.
Oh, of what mortal race art Thou the God? | Those creatures formed of dust beneath these heavens?
Europe's pale checks are Asia's pantheon, and Europe's pantheon her glittering metals.
A blaze of art and science lights the West | With darkness that no Fountain of Life dispels;
In high-reared grace, in glory and in grandeur, | The towering Bank out-tops the cathedral roof;
What they call commerce is a game of dice for one, profit, for millions swooping death.
There science, philosophy, scholarship, government, | Preach man's equality and drink men's blood;
Naked debauch, and want, and unemployment | Are these mean triumphs of the Frankish arts
Denied celestial grace a nation goes | No further than electricity or steam
Death to the heart, machines stand sovereign, | Engines that crush all sense of human kindness.
-Yet signs are counted here and there that Fate, | The chess-player has check-mated all their cunning.
The Tavern shakes, its warped foundations crack, | The Old Men of Europe sit there numb with fear;
What twilight flush is left those faces now | Is paint and powder, or lent by flask and cup.
Omnipotent, righteous, Thou; but bitter the hours, | Bitter the labourer's chained hours in Thy world!
When shall this galley of gold's dominion founder? | Thy world Thy day of wrath, Lord, stands and waits.
Sources and translator credits
- Original text transcription: Bal-e-Jibril — لينن — Digital transcription file at commit 39d44fc0c2b8ca25769c4b36e6eac4d90cb42b35; the source dataset does not identify the underlying print edition.Verified against this pinned digital transcription file; not checked against a print edition.Source
- Iqbal Demystified source list: Bal-e-Jibril — Pinned digital dataset commit 39d44fc0c2b8ca25769c4b36e6eac4d90cb42b35; the underlying print edition is not identified by the dataset.Community dataset list; not reconciled against a print edition.Source
- Bal-e-Jibril English translation at allama-iqbal.com — Lenin Before God — Public digital poem page, retrieved 2026-10-06; pinned to allama-iqbal.com commit 82547635bb6b758c45082084b2f152fc453a8056.Translation by V G Kiernan; English Translation by: V G KiernanSource
- Poems from Iqbal — First edition, 1955Translation by V. G. Kiernan; Published English translations attributed to V. G. Kiernan; the 231 previously imported exact passages remain, with one additional independently reviewed final standalone line at PDF page 100. Each new locator names its exact passage scope.Source
