Islam is a flower of mercy in the blooming seasons,
Peace is inherited due to hard spokes of a wheel,
And safety exhibits itself in the form of pleasure,
Pains reside in the souls of men who are wicked to
The souls so meek and refreshed.
Islam is a tree of health, to be exhaled by the forest,
Warning signs show the Islamic offspring lately,
Their showers are from the whispered tones of the clouds
And the water then drains into the ocean to relive.
Souls are meek on the Last Day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So true. A beautiful poem Naveed! ! !