We are approaching the 5th of February, the day on which Hazrat Inayat Khan passed away in 1927, in a house called Tilak Lodge, in New Delhi. The poem given here was written early in 1926, about a year before his passing, while he was in the United States, travelling on a train to Chicago. It shows that notwithstanding fifteen intense years in the West, he deeply missed the land of his birth, and what is more, clearly understood that he would soon return there ‘to rest.’
India, India, the land of my birth,
To compare with you there is no place on the earth.
In the spring I left home and I come in the fall,
In my deepest despair I heard your call.
Your sacred river, your holy shrine
Your sublime nature, your spirit divine,
Your moonlight night and your glorious dawn,
Your beautiful sunset and your promising morn,
Your wonderful landscape and your blue sky,
They touch my innermost and I heave a deep sigh.
Dreams of your poets and your singers’ cry
Still ring in my ears and lift my soul high.
Grandeur of your princes, wisdom of your sage,
Ideal of your women*, their dignity of age.
Angels would humbly bow low if they saw my land,
If the world knew her spirit, all would kiss her hand.
I have for many years wandered away from home;
Dear, dear India, soon to you I come.
Take me in your arms, my motherland so blessed,
Away from worldly strife in your bosom to rest.
*From earlier versions it is apparent that the poet was thinking of the sense of modesty and honour that prefers to conceal its beauty.
It is realy touching, especially now the 5th is soon coming.
Thank you very much for sharing. Is it possible to save this poem in my personal files?
With a warm greeting to you,
Ganesh
Dear Ganesh, thank you for your appreciation. As for saving the file, the site is set globally to be ‘non-copiable.’ Perhaps for the poem you could transcribe it, since it is not long.
With kindest greetings,
Nawab
Such beautiful heartfelt poetry that touched me deeply. Thank you from Hatim