Nothing like our hindustan in the world entire,
She is o'r garden, we her warbling choir.
We may wander far from home, home resides in our thoughts,
We too live at that place where lies our heart.
The highest mountain of the world, a neighbour of the skies,
That tough and tall watchman guards us day and night.
A thousand rivulets criss-cross through her plains and wilds,
Because of which our garden vies with Paradise.
O Ganges, flowing past thy banks, remember thou that time,
When we landed on thy shore, in this sacred clime.
religion does not teach us to harbour mutual spite,
We are Indians, one and all, Hindustan our land of pride.
Greece, Egypt and Rome, have vanished out of sight,
But our name lives on in spite of time and tide.
Something must be there to keep our name alive,
Though the world for centuries has been to us hostile.
We don not have a confidant in the world, Iqbal,
None knows what sorrows lurk within our heart.
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