Saare Jahan Se Achchha (Urdu: ???? ???? ?? ????) is one of the enduring patriotic poems of the Urdu language. Written originally for children in the ghazal style of Urdu poetry by poet Muhammad Iqbal, the poem was published in the weekly journal Ittehad on 16 August 1904. Recited by Iqbal the following year at Government College, Lahore, now in Pakistan, it quickly became an anthem of opposition to the British rule in India. The song, an ode to Hindustan—the land comprising present-day Bangladesh, India, and Pakistan—both celebrated and cherished the land even as it lamented its age-old anguish. Also known as Tarana-e-Hindi (Urdu: ????? ???? “Anthem of the People of Hindustan”), it was later published in 1924 in the Urdu book Bang-i-Dara.

S?re jah?ñ se achch? hindost?ñ ham?r?
ham bulbuleñ haiñ us k? vuh gulsit?ñ ham?r?

?hurbat meñ hoñ agar ham, raht? hai dil vat?an meñ
samjho vuh?ñ hameñ bh? dil ho jah?ñ ham?r?

parbat vuh sab se ?ñch?, hams?yah ?sm?ñ k?
vuh santar? ham?r?, vuh p?sb?ñ ham?r?

god? meñ khelt? haiñ us k? haz?roñ nadiy?ñ
gulshan hai jin ke dam se rashk-e jan?ñ ham?r?

ay ?b-r?d-e gang?! vuh din haiñ y?d tujh ko?
utar? tire kin?re jab k?rav?ñ ham?r?

ma?hab nah?ñ sikh?t? ?pas meñ bair rakhn?
hind? haiñ ham, vat?an hai hindost?ñ ham?r?

y?n?n-o-mi?r-o-rum? sab mi? ga?e jah?ñ se
ab tak magar hai b?q? n?m-o-nish?ñ ham?r?

kuchh b?t hai kih hast? mi?t? nah?ñ ham?r?
sadiyoñ rah? hai dushman daur-e zam?ñ ham?r?

iqb?l! ko?? ma?ram apn? nah?ñ jah?ñ meñ
ma?l?m ky? kis? ko dard-e nih?ñ ham?r?!

saare jahaan se achcha hindostaan hamaraa
hum bul bulain hai is kee, ye gulsitan hamaraa

parbat vo sabse unchaa hum saaya aasma kaa
vo santaree hamaraa, vo paasbaan hamaraa

godee mein khel tee hain is kee hazaaron nadiya
gulshan hai jinke dum se, rashke janna hamaraa

mazhab nahee sikhataa apas mein bayr rakhnaa
hindee hai hum, vatan hai hindostaan hamaraa

Translation -  From Wikipedia

Better than the entire world, is our Hindustan,
We are its nightingales, and it (is) our garden abode

If we are in an alien place, the heart remains in the homeland,
Know us to be only there where our heart is.

That tallest mountain, that shade-sharer of the sky,
It (is) our sentry, it (is) our watchman

In its lap frolic those thousands of rivers,
Whose vitality makes our garden the envy of Paradise.

O the flowing waters of the Ganges, do you remember that day
When our caravan first disembarked on your waterfront?

Religion does not teach us to bear ill-will among ourselves
We are of Hind, our homeland is Hindustan.

In a world in which ancient Greece, Egypt, and Rome have all vanished without trace
Our own attributes (name and sign) live on today.

Such is our existence that it cannot be erased
Even though, for centuries, the cycle of time has been our enemy.

Iqbal! We have no confidant in this world
What does any one know of our hidden pain?

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