Subscribe
My Journey (Mera Safar): Ali Sardar Jafri
Ali Sardar Jafri was an extraordinary poet whose idealism and political struggle enriched his verse throughout his life. For instance at the time of 1965 Indo-Pak war, he read poems of peace at the Radio and shunned the jingoism on both the sides. Even as die-hard Communist, he cherished the civilizational heritage and its Sufi-Bhakti traditions that the dogmatic Marxists in India have usuallytreated with disdain. And, his famous poem written after the demolition of Babri mosque was most poignant: Ajodhya narrates how Ram was insulted by the barbarity of that act and Sita wept with blood in her eyes!
I came across this decent translation of his poem Mera Safar here. IÂ enjoyed reading it again after ages and thought this must be shared with friends here. This is also the poem where Jafri hints at his immortality…
My Journey
Â
 Such a day will arrive again
[when] the lamps of the eyes will get extinguished;
the lotus of the hands will get withered
and each butterfly of speech and voice
will flee from the leaf of the tongue.
All faces that blossom like buds,
chuckle like flowers,
the circling of blood, the beats of heart,
all [such] symphonies will go to sleep
on the bed of a dark ocean.
And, this grinning diamond particle,
this paradise of mine, this earth
that is laid out on the velvet of the blue environ,
its morns, its evenings
will, unwittingly, unconsciously,
pass on shedding the tears of dew
[on the demise of] a handful of dust of a man.
Everything will be forgotten;
everything will be removed
from the exquisite idol-house of memories.
Then no one will ask:
Where is Sardar in the congregation?
Yet, I’ll come here again;
[I] will talk with the mouths of the tots;
will sing in the tongue of the birds.
When seeds will grin beneath earth
and the sapling, with its fingers,
will vex the crusts of earth,
I’ll open my eyes
in leaves and buds;
will take, in [my] verdant palm,
the dew drops.
I’ll turn into the colour of henna, the tune of ghazal
[and] the style of poetry.
[I], like the hue of the cheek of a bride,
will filter from every stole.
When the winds of winter
will bring along with them
the season of autumn’
my laughter will be heard
from the dry leaves that will
be trampled under the robust feet of the passerby.
All the golden rivers of the earth;
all the azure lakes of the sky
will get filled with my being.
And the world will see
[that] every tale is [in fact] my tale;
here every lover is Sardar
[and] every beloved is Sultaanaa
I’m a fleeting moment
in the enchanting-house of time;
I’m a restless drop
that travels
from the pitcher of the past
to the wine-cup of the future.
I sleep and get up
and again go to sleep.
I’m a play that’s many centuries old.
I expire and become immortal.
Such a day will arrive again
read the original Urdu version here
July 16th, 2007 at 4:22 am
[...] must be shared with friends here. This is also the poem where Jafri hints at his immortality… Full article here >> This entry is filed under Politics, Poetry, India, heritage, Arts & Culture, All My Posts, [...]