You are not familiar with the hardships of solving enigmas O Beautiful Rose! Perhaps you do not have sublime feelings in your heart.

Though you adorn the assembly yet do not participate in its struggles; in life's assembly I am not endowed with this comfort.

In this garden I am the complete orchestra of Longing and your life is devoid of the warmth of that Longing. (Longing: Or ardent desire is one of the important planks of `Allamah Iqbal’s philosophy. However, this longing is not for the material things of life or the satisfaction of physical desires, which is found in all living things. What distinguishes Man from other creation and entitles him to the honor of being God’s vicegerent on earth is the ‘longing’ for more elegant goals and more sublime desires than mere indulgence in material pleasures. His longing is a limitless ocean of search for knowing the Truth and the Purpose of the creation of God, knowledge of His Essence, and fixing of high ideals for life, such as struggle in the cause of God.)

To pluck you from the branch is not my custom; this sight is not different from the sight of the eye which can only see the appearances.

Ah! O colorful rose this hand is not one of a tormentor; how can I explain to you that I am not a flower picker.

I am not concerned with intricacies of the philosophic eye, like a lover I see you through the nightingale's eye. (Bulbul, or Nightingale: This is a special Persian bird found in gardens and proverbially engaged in melodious music round flowers. It is imagined to be and is described as an ardent lover of flowers in Persian and Urdu literature, especially poetry.)

In spite of innumerable tongues* you have chosen silence. What is the secret which is concealed in your bosom? * This alludes to the anatomy of the rose flower, whose petals are innumerable, look like tongues and also add to its beauty, which proclaims the artistry of its Creator in spite of the apparent silence of the flower.

Like me you are also a leaf from the garden of Toor; far from the garden I am, far from the garden you are.

You are content but scattered like fragrance I am wounded by the sword of love for search I am.

This perturbation of mine a means for fulfillment could be; this torment a source of my intellectual illumination could be.

This very frailty of mine the means of strength could be; this mirror of mine envy of the cup of Jam* could be. * This is the legendary cup of the Persian emperor Jam in which he could see whatever he wanted to see wherever he wanted to see.

This constant search is a world-illuminating candle and teaches to the steed of human intellect its gait. (This last stanza expresses Allamah Iqbal's strong hope that his present condition may be the means of attaining his objective which is described in the stanza.)