The Answer To Complaint Part 1

Jawab-e-Shikwa THE ANSWER TO THE COMPLAINT BY ALLAH ALMIGHTY SIDE TO PIOUS PEOPLE OF THE WHOLE UNIVERSE: https://youtu.be/EXRl5VKq39M When passion streaming from the heart turns human lips to lyres, Some magic wings man’s music then, his song with soul inspires; Man’s words are sacred then, they soar, The ears of heaven they seek, From dust those mortal accents rise, Immortals hear them speak; So wild and wayward was my Love, such tumult raised its sighs, Before its daring swiftly fell the ramparts of the skies. The skies exclaimed in wonderment, “Some one is hiding here,” The wheeling Planets paused to say, “Seek on the highest sphere.” The silver Moon said, “You are wrong, Some mortal it must be,” The Milky Way too joined converse, “Here in our midst is he.’’ Rizwan alone, my plaintive voice began to recognise, He knew me for a human who had lost his Paradise. And even the Angels could not tell what was that voice so strange, Whose secret seemed to lie beyond Celestial wisdom’s range. They said, “Can Man now roving come and reach these regions high? That tiny speck of mortal clay, has it now learnt to fly? How little do these beings of earth the laws of conduct know; How coarse and insolent they are, these men who live below. So great their insolence indeed, they dare even God upbraid! Is this the Man to whom their bow the Angels once had made? Of Quality and Quantity He knows the secrets, true— The ways of humbleness as well If he a little knew! That they alone are blest with speech how proud these humans be, Yet, ignorant, they lack the art to use it gracefully.” Then spake a Voice Compassionate: “Your tale enkindles pain, Your cup is brimming full with tears which you could not contain Even High Heaven itself is moved by these impassioned cries; How wild the heart which taught your lips such savage melodies! Its grace yet makes this song of yours a song of eulogy; A bridge of converse you have formed ‘Twixt mortal man and Me! Behold, my hands arc full of gifts, but who comes seeking here? And how shall I the right road shew when there’s no traveller? My loving care is there for all, If deserved but by few! Not this the clay from which I can an Adam’s shape renew! On him who merits well I set the brightest diadem, And those who truly questing come, a new world waits for them.