Armaghan-i-Hijaz (Urdu: ارمغان حجاز; or The Gift of the Hijaz; originally published in Persian, 1938) was a philosophical poetry book of Allama Iqbal, the great poet-philosopher of Islam. 
  Introduction
  This work, published a few months after the poet's death, is a fairly small volume containing verses in both Persian and Urdu. It is incomplete, although this is not readily apparent to the reader; for Iqbal left some gaps in the book which he intended to fill when he made the pilgrimage to Mecca. The title means "Gift from the Hijaz." He had long wished to undertake the journey to the Arabian Peninsula to perform the Hajj and to visit the tomb of Muhammad, but was prevented from doing so by continuous illness during the last years of his life. Iqbal began composing the Armaghan as a gift to take to the Hijaz, intending to publish it on his return to India as a "Gift from the Hijaz" to his countrymen. 
In this, his last work, we find the poet more withdrawn and introspective than previously. The poems are shorter and more personal. The impression left is that the author is taking a last look at the world around him before leaving it behind. The themes are largely the familiar ones, but the treatment is as fresh, forceful and delicate as ever. Iqbal's outspokenness, even when addressing God, in criticizing human evils and in his hatred of injustice and oppression and his devotion to Muhammad and his companions, all remain undiminished. As a summing-up of the ideas and feelings of a great thinker, the Armaghan merits a special place among the literary classics of the twentieth century. 
It is divided into two parts, the first containing Persian, the second Urdu poems. The Persian verses, all in ruba'i form, are divided into five groups and presents God the Truth, Muhammad, the Muslim nation, Mankind and the "Companions on the Path to God." 
The second part comprises Urdu poems composed between 1935 and the time of his death and include a poem describing the ideological confusion of the poet's time and its impact on Muslims. 
In this work, Iqbal touches on practically every question with which he had been preoccupied during his life of intellectual striving and literary achievement. The poems which comprise this final work give the impression that the writer has at last found the tranquility he had for so long sought: 
 - The song that has gone may come again - or may not.
- A fresh breeze may come from Hijaz - or may not.
- The days of this poor humble man are ended;
- Another knower of secrets may come - or may not.[2]
Topics
       |  Preface  HAZOOR-I-HAQI
 They held the loveless is heart and went awayMy being and non-being were topics on tipsMy heart rakes often knots of 'how' and 'why'What a noisy display of mud and clayWho brought the wide world on the cosmos scene
 II
 My heart not prisoned is writhing with painO Amrine, thou hast turn'd the cup of wineThe self writhing hearts are captives of luresI tread a path there which leads no whereKeep off my wine from shallow hearted meeksThou hast no quest in thy efforts and zealsBid me shake the world with a cry and hueA gloom still lurking in broad day lightThy slave I'm and seek thy pleasure alone
 III
 My heart knows not the bliss of His flameHow to tell tale of 'Deen' and father landA Muslim tied up with a foreign landI wish not this world nor cosmos wholeWhat ye hopes from an easy going bloke
 IV
 I seek for that nation a rising fieldHow long shall you gaze with a wrathful stare?That bliss of the past may come or notIf so e'er comes that gifted mystic sageMy heart is wealth mine who knows pang's pine
 V
 To lose heart to some one he did not knowMy heart so restive is fleeing from meI donned big circles on a likewise nightKnows not the Gabriel this hue and cryThe sky seldom sees alike this age
 VI
 Get me Seenay's truth, and love of his name
 VII
 A Muslim gloats in hunger and patchesA nation again whom duty is dearA nation again whose hearts would adorn
 VIII
 Thy world is ruled by misers fewA hungry seeker begged his Sheikh to plead
 IX
 Looking in a mess is Indian StateFrom bondage a Moslem is a self sold guy
 X
 So calculate once all the losses and gainsWhat is the lasting life is known to thee
 XI
 When the old world gets its apex of heightMy body is tired but soul still flies
 HAZOOR-I-RISALATI
 O, tent chamberlain! leave the tent harkI keep my eyes penchant on hearts essenceI know not who dazzled and killed this heartAsk not of lustre drunk's caravan sceneI cherish for Yasrib though I am old
 II
 To love'an rapture sins gave a common senseYou ask the spots where I played my jazz there
 III
 That dawn I asked naqah not to run quickShe needs no reins O I teamster hence!Yet tears moist vivid in jet black eyes
 IV
 How lucky are deserts caravan linesHail the desert whose eve is morning gay
 V
 Who's that Ajmi as head of caravanA place in love and raptures was his aim
 VI
 A hidden grief untold is clearIn pits grow poppies from vernal tide
 VII
 A page of Iraqi sometimes I turnLet the hiker's grief take a blissful turn
 VIII
 Come O! chum for a tie to weep and cryTo wise he gave less wealth and affluenceThe world with four sides I have in arm-pitIn this valley lies a lasting life new
 IX
 A Muslim was a king and saint so highThe heart takes heat from thy love pangs' flameNo morn yet to slaves O Indian nightAs such I say to a. soft-hearted soulA friend's hidden life how can I revealThe sky still going on a perverse courseIn his pure blood shines not that vigour and heatHe made his heart captive of pomp and showTo him the heart's door is not open yet
 X
 His collar is torn, he cares no darnGive him his dues, of a captive and meekRefine his morals and life once moreThe bride of life, in him is not his ownHis eyes are void of a glamour and gleeThough born as Muslim yet knows not the death
 XI
 The kingship as whole is trick and skillA Muslim's stuff has a lifelong stayAshamed is Muslim for losing his StateAsk me not of his present day lotI have scanned the whole world through his eyeThe Muslims have raised no armament wingsThe assets of Sheikh were the fables oldHe brought a total change in faithless worldFrom fane gets Harem its grandeur and glareAs long in mosque the poor kept a rowThe Moslems are fighting with brothers ownTo others than God we touch our browsIn the hands of drinkers the empty glassThe synagogues bottles are void of wineThe Muslims are foreigns on every landWith wings you gave I judge and flyAt night before Lord I often cryI speak not now of the grandeur pastThe guard of Harem is the mason of faneFrom this poor man's flame, sitting on his wayLike gallants I fall and rise againLet me sob and sigh in a lone retreatI fly in the airy lovelier spaceOf secret I'told, they paid no heedTo stick it to bosom this verse aims notYou bid me for a theme on bliss lifelongMy face looks saffron from arcane painThe meek utter hence of yonder glanceThose who knew not I preached them egoWhat I hold in heart is grief and remorseA poor, ruthfull flutist who taught love's toneI seek not my vigour from morning airI'am in a sea which has no coast sideDrive not from door who are longing for theeOn idols white my heart is sweetFrom Western taverns the wines I takeI seek from thy door, whatever I seekWith 'mullah' or 'Sufi' I do not sitThe 'mullah' never knows the pangs of griefOn pulpit his address a venom of bileThe heart of lucent hearts he took or I?An alien I am within my own raceFor any one's boon this heart owes notMy craze still feels the same burning phaseThis dust still feels His living flameMy glance looks not the world's hollow gameI have been born in a flameless ageThe 'rose and poppy' lack my 'scent and shade.So alien I am in West and EastI broke the magic of the modern ageYou have lit up my eyes with an insightWhen I pressed myself in my own embraceThe world has charms like paradise trueBid him O lord! a holy man's leadMove around O bearer! the wine cup's courseFor love the world came from thee the love's flameTo me this burning a boon of thy glowThis heart, I tied not with aught in this faneGrow that poppy from the dust of mineTo my shining race I would love to groanFor the sake of truth of my free lance toneI hold a heart in hand find not a beauLike Rumi I raised His call in Harem wholeRaise a garden new from dust of mineA Muslim is resting from coast to coastWho told him I smell thee 'under the rose'From thy own main give pearls to my rillIn a gathering see my flute's tones sweetI kept beaming face in this or that caseI have shared the poppy's flame and painWith thy light alone I lit up my glanceI need in thy land just a melting sigh
 XII
 I hold very dear that roaring roarLook to these saucy Anglican maidsGive a helping hand to those who are weak
 XIII
 You too take the wine from friend's cup warmA poor man I'm, you hold the 'Arab's reignA look of pain I'm and see no cure quickLet tis join hands to spread his love's flameYou hold a high place in the desert's landBeing Muslims we make no home and false tiesTo Anglian idols pay not a heed
 HAZOOR-I-MILLATIAN ODE TO UMMAH
 Be nearer to the aim like a moon newMy self's own sea gave a rise to meCome O' bearer and move the cup of WineCome O' bearer and raise the veils asideRaise from thy bosom a 'Call of God Great'From self a Muslim is man perfectAs long the Muslim, in self can peep,The veils of thy fortune lo! I opeNow all the shut doors for Turks are opeA nation whose spring falls to decayGod gave that nation a sway o'er landsFrom Razi thus learn the Quran's insight
 IIEGO
 Who makes Ego firm by 'Lailah's tieO ignorant man get a knowing heartThy heart keeps not that hidden scar
 IIIANAL HAQ (I AM GOD)
 A place of I am God is God's own placeI am the God suits to that nation loneAmong nations large she holds a place greatFrom her inner verve that race is a flameLike a unique race thus She flies in spaceIn garden's lawn he is song bird sweetFill the old wine in the New Age bowl
 IVSUFI AND MULLAH
 The Mullah and Sufi are cross in deedWhen the English subdued the mosque and faneTo Mullah and Sufi thou art a slaveThrough the mirror of Quran see thy deedsI salute the Mullah and Sufi oldOn hell kafir-maker MulIah spokeA well read disciple asked his guideThus spoke to his son a guide in patched robe
 VRUMI
 Pour in thy self that old wine againTake from his cup those poppy like stemsFrom his verve and heat I got a good shareBeing full of pathos and passion's heatHe solved many ties I had to faceTo me his heart's door was always opeHis thought thus flies with stars and moon raysTake secrets of content from Rumi's callWhen self is deprived from godly tintThat bright wine scattered from my wineyard
 VITHE MESSAGE OF FAROOQ (HAZRAT UMAR)
 O desert's breeze rise from 'Arab's skyTue Faqr and Caliphate with King's Crown shineA young man who peeps in his ego deepFor sense and heart's sake leave each door ajarHow happy is the race who wins her goalThat Turkish seaman how sang a song gayThe world rule is destined to my own dustTo certitude truth who so ever knewA Muslim who tested his own ego first
 |  VIITO THE ARAB POET
 To Arab poets sweet on my part sayI caused in his soul a verve a heatYou leave making now the portraits on wallMy heart has a grief, and dust has a heartOf virtues of God Muslim has a partGive to his dust that flame and mightA Muslim you were named for grief's bargainOn whom were opened the secrets of soulSo guard the nature of thy mud and dustThe hill and desert night defies thy dayRead the clear writing on thy forehead's slate
 VIIIO SON OF THE DESERT
 When all the desert sides were bright from dawnThe Truth chose Arab for caravan's leadThose nights had the uproar for future's dawn
 IXFROM THIS DUST A RIDER COMESDO YOU KNOW?
 Learn the ways to win His pleasure and graceIf a craze consumes the garden's faceThe poppy of my dawn's first vernal tideSo scattered I'm like dust of the wayHow lucky a nation whom wheel of fateIn self's own sea, I'm thus a restive' waveHis glance would fill up the empty bowlThe caravans reins he would take whenTo that holy mother I greet with prideMy heart thus says that the hero will hail
 XTHE CALIPHATE AND MONARCHY
 The Arabs gained a lot from Prophet's lightTake the Caliphate's witness with a heedA Moses grapples with kingdoms allThe Adam is slave in this world yetThe love, from his glance is stable and best
 XITURKS OF OTTOMAN EMPIRE
 In the Ottoman reign, the Turks are freeHow daring were they who broke his charmsThe fate thus gave to Turks a verve anew
 XIITO DAUGHTERS OF THE NATION
 Learn O' daughterling this loveliness trendA God given sword thy glance to theeAt last modern age shows her conscience lo!The world is stable from the mother's graceThat nation is lucky in whose hard raceThis craze she gave me for sharp wits senseIf you pay a heed once, to this poor guyFrom my evening's dusk get a dawn new
 XIIITHE MODERN AGE
 What is the age? On whom the faith criesHis glance only paints the heathen's shadeTo youths of this age he taught evil waysThe Muslim draws content and kingship closeThe dance you now play in this or that way
 XIVBRAHMEN
 For him, he opened hundred doors for plotsTo Brahmen I say not a useless blokeA pundit keeps eyes on his own taskThe Brahmen said leave this white man's door
 XVEDUCATION
 A shine which lasts with beauty and graceA knowledge which cures but melts not to tranceNo links with that Momin the God would keepA blind eye is better from eyes crookNo use of a thought which measures skyRespect is the dress of a sage or foolWhy you lose hopes of kids a bitTeach the offspring wisdom and faith's kenWho sapp'd sweet tone of the birds and budsThe days of that 'Dervesh' O God keep gayWho e'er tied himself with Lailah's tieA caravan was killed, if you e'er seeA well dressed fighter and handsome guyTo a camel addressed its youngest foal
 XVISEARCH FOR FOOD AND LIVING
 If the hawks too fly for roof to roof raceSee thy own self with a seeing eye
 XVIIA CROCODILE TO ITS YOUNG
 Thus said to its child a 'croco' with boastIn sea you are not it lies but in thee
 XVIIITHE FINIS
 I talk not of bearer nor of bowl henceBack to ego turn, and back to heart lookFor heart and eyes course, the ‘Harem’ is the aim
 A MESSAGE TO MANKINDIntroductionI
 O bearer come and serve the old wineLeave thy solitude cell for a while please
 II
 With times came unrest which passed so quickThose who had fears for the future days
 III
 Like nightingale you know not the groans and wailsCome forward and learn the self seeing artGive up the habit to weep on fateA gull said to shaver, nice witty thingYou had fallen then from a godly placeI hail that day when he turns to self's boldLike me you are too wrapped in a veilA camel once said a nice word to foal
 IV
 I know many savants and gems of westHark! O victim of wits of aliens few
 V
 This being would last or just a passing showWith battle axe smite the Bistoon MountainKeep the crave's lamp burning ever in heartO heart's sea! no peace yet known to theeTo both the worlds win with efforts and zealYou show us O Poppy! thy self's own trace
 VI
 A man weeps not from a grief or painsIf a tested man dies think not everIf thy dust has no link with soul and heartMy each breath blows with griefs many moreA young who tied heart with ego's callSuch griefs this heart now likes to takeBlame not the God for this or that hurtTurn out fire of envy from thy heart's coreIn his nights behold many dawns bright
 VII
 To the morning breeze' weep'd the dew' in trance
 VIIIHEART
 The heart is a sea which likes no shoreMy heart is a fire, a smoke my frameHis help the world seeks like his slave ownThe Ego's power he did not tryYou say the heart is the Khak and KhoonThe world of Sun and Moon, slave of his threadWe are God's harvest its yield is heartTo that rare beauty my heart seeks againThe heart's world is not world of pomp and showThe glance brought eyes and wisdom a tape bandWhat is the love? an impact of glance
 IXEGO
 The Ego is lucent from God's light raysWhen a nation gives up gossip's courseFrom God's own being, the 'self' got a 'being' soThe friendship of rose a heart likes whenHis parting's prick in my tête-à-tête liesThe dusty look I hold owes to His door
 XCOMPULSION AND OPTION
 I am quite certain that on the doomsdayIn city of Room a pontiff told me
 XIDEATH
 The death once said to God in this wayTo king of six nooks give a lasting soul
 XIISAY TO SATAN
 From me please give to Satan a messageAs long He made not this wide world anewThe separation gave to zeal great spurHe drove thee out from the Heavens firstMy rights and the wrongs you already knowLet us play a chess like a royal game
 XIIIEARTH'S SATAN AND HELL'S SATAN
 From this world's clear violence the man is sickLook the demons dash on ear and eyelashWhat a devil who likes a backward gaitWhat a venomed wine he holds in his bowlYet the man lies fallen from the high placeTo Satans of this age be not a preyHis blows counterpart is a man completeTo sense of the means it is far off though
 TO FRIENDS OF COMMON CREED (SAME PATH)I
 The Qalandar is a bold hawk of skyWhen the Allah Hoo's tick did hit my soulIn the heart of nature like tears I groanIn logic I feel a smell of rawsCome and take from me that old wine's bowlThe same old harp I hold in my handTo tyrants of this age I would thus sayA poor I am whose asset is glanceMy heart's door I shut not to any oneNo pomp and show I have in this globeSome points were discussed by hundred wise menThe science or art points I claim not to wieldI boast not to be a song bird of dawnThis world is a path to my eyes and senseWith nothingness learn to live with graceFor long I'm gaining from this dusty martYou cant learn aught 'sans' a conscious soulGet a self-knowing eye and see thy soulThe wisdom knows not the certitude eyesWhat are the clothes, gold jewels and gems?To self my wine gives full sense and poiseFor robes and turbans why you feel a bentAs soon I espied my ego's essenceWhen I packed my self from this dusty fuss
 II
 If a wise man holds clean conscience and soul
 III
 You are bowing head to 'Dara' and 'Jam'I heard a nice verse from a man oldThe being's secret hids in two words of sageThe being's secret hids in two words of sageTwo worlds of old man I keep in mind stillA restive wave said once to a coastIf this pomp and show the Anglian boonTo Anglians thus the hearts do not own
 IV
 We are despaired of heart and faith's wayHis path's true sign if a Muslim could knowO callous heart make not a link with clayIn Truth and certitude lies the love's placeFor Muslim 'this is the gnosis and kenYou handed over thee to idols whiteA self maker and melter each cant beA Momin burns thus in his being's own heatWhat is lovers s service, prayers of beaus?He calls both worlds to Quran by prays
 V
 The English mind knows God's Food Law RulesA long tale serves no service in a senseA paradise lies for the pious alone
 VI
 This dervesh knows not a style in speech[3]
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  See also
  Notes
  External links
 - Read online
- Iqbal Academy Pakistan
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