In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful
Hamd by Khushal Khan Khattak
All praise is right and due to Him Whose praises all men sing. Whether their state be high or low All men give thanks to Him.
All creation cries his Onenss From Fish to firmament. Infidels or true-believers,
All confess His mastery. So great, so grant a king is He The heavens are His home: The earth its floor, the mountains there Like nails with which it's studded. The Beauties of the world we see
Are all descriptive of Him. Stones prostrate themselves in homage, The trees stand in respect. He made the sun to burn so bright, The moon to shine so clear. He makes the earth's face beautiful By causing flowers to bloom. He gave the mouth the sense of taste, The jaws the power to chew. A morsel of meat He makes speak, A piece of fat to see. He gives to Sheikhs their will to praise, To rakes theirs to carouse.
He gives the rose its loveliness, The nightingale its love. He puts the music in the flute, Intoxication in the wine. He gives the barn-yard cock its crown, The peacock its bright train. He gives the deer its perfume gland And civet to the cat. He gives the rebeck's string its song, To rose-water its scent. He makes all moon-browed, lovely girls, With eyes like the gazelles'.
He makes the lover so distraught, Inflicting love on him. He makes the rain fall, or the snow, Turns dry dust into meadow. First he makes the bushes grow green, Then opens flowers on them, Then He puts scent into the flowers And brilliant petals on them, So adorning tended gardens And flower-decked hillsides. All the trees of field and orchard.
The tall and small and wide-- To every one He gives its fruit, Each with a different taste. He loads the vine with clustered grapes, Makes black and white both sweet. His bounty rains down equally On colocynth and apple. Just as the fair rose blossoms forth So does the thorn grown out. Men all eat His bounteous table, In this they're all alike:
The sinner eats his fill at it Beside the pious man. Its He who sets kings on their thrones And reaps them in their time. If He should pardon Lucifer No one can say Him nay: If he casts a man to the flames No one can make protest. If kingship lies in independence He is the greatest king. His kingdom never knows decline; He has no peer at all.
Adopted from: POEMS FROM THE DIVAN OF KHUSHAL KHAN KHATTAK."
Translated from Pakhto by D. N. Mackenzie.
Publisher: George Allen and Unwin, Ltd. Ruskin House, Museum Street. London.
UNESCO Collection of representative works, Pakistan Series.
This work was prepared for the Pakistan Series of the Translations Collection of the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO)
