Posts Tagged Ahmad

Destination of love by Ahmad-i-Jam

11 January 2011
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Sohaib Qureshi has translated 12th century mystic Ahmad-i Jam’s verse – thanks to his endeavours

Manzil-i ishq az makàn-i dìgar ast
Mard-i ìn ràh rà nishàn-i dìgar ast

Bar sar-i bazàr-i sarràfàn-i ishq
Zìr-i har dàr-ì jawàn-i dìgar ast

Kushtagàn-i khanjar-i taslìm rà
Har zamàn az ghaìb jàn-i dìgar ast

Ahmadà! Tà gúm nagardì, hushyàr!
Kìn jaras az karwàn-i dìgar ast

Destination of love is from another dwelling
Man of this path has another attribute.

In the bazaar of those who understand the value of love
There is a different youth under every gallows.

Those slain by the dagger of submission
Each moment find a new life from the Unknown.

O Ahmad! Till you lose yourself, beware
Since this bell is from another caravan.

Faiz’s ‘Intesab’ – a lovely translation

28 August 2009
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A reader – Joe 31 – has rendered a great translation of Faiz’s poem – “Intesab”. I am posting it as a separate blog entry for all those who read and enjoy Faiz Ahmad Faiz, Pakistan’s eminent poet. This poem appears as an introduction to one of his early collections of verse. This timeless poem is relevant even today as it celebrates the resilience and courage of Pakistani proletariat.

Dedicated to these times, and the sorrow of these times.
The pain of today, that is set against the plentiful garden of life.
The forest of dead leaves, that is my land.
The collection of pain that is my land.

Dedicated to the gloomy lives of clerks
Moth eaten hearts and words.
Dedicated to the postmen
Dedicated to the coachmen
Dedicated to the railway workers
Dedicated to the innocent beings in the factories. (more…)

Faiz’s Shaam

11 February 2009
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Faiz’s poem Shaam with a translation by Agha Shahid Ali.Thanks to Junaid for the contribution.
Iss tarha hai ke har ik perr koi mandir hai
koi ujrra huwa, benoor, puraana mandir
dhooNdta hey jo kharaabi ke bahaaney kab se
chaak har baam, har ik dard ka dam-e-aakhir hey
aasmaaN koi prohit hey jo har baam taley
jism pe raakh maley, maathey pe sindoor maley
sir-niguN betha hey chup chaap naa jaaney kab sey

Iss tarha hai ke pas-e-parda koi saahir hai
jiss nay aafaaq pe phelaaya hai yuN sehar kaa daam
daaman-e-waqt sey pewast hai yuN daaman-e-shaam
ab kabhi shaam bujhey gi na andhera ho ga
ab kabhi raat dhaley gi na sawera ho ga

AasmaaN aas leeye hai ke ye jaadu tootay
chup ki zanjeer katay, waqt ka daaman chhootey
day koi sankh duhaai, koi paayal boley
koi butt jaagey, koi saaNwali ghooNgat kholey

Evening
The trees are dark ruins of temples,
seeking excuses to tremble
since who knows when–
their roofs are cracked,
their doors lost to ancient winds.
And the sky is a priest,
saffron marks on his forehead,
ashes smeared on his body.
He sits by the temples, worn to a shadow, not looking up.
Some terrible magician, hidden behind curtains,
has hypnotized Time
so this evening is a net
in which the twilight is caught.
Now darkness will never come–
and there will never be morning.
The sky waits for this spell to be broken,
for history to tear itself from this net,
for Silence to break its chains
so that a symphony of conch shells
may wake up to the statues
and a beautiful, dark goddess,
her anklets echoing, may unveil herself.
(from The Rebel’s Silhouette)