What great lines
Mera karnama-e-zindagi
Meri hasraton kay siwa nahi
Yeh kiya nahi, woh hua nahi
Yeh mila nahi, woh raha nahi
The achievement of my life is nothing
But things that could not be done
I could not do it, [or] ‘that did not happen’
Did not get that and what I got, did not stay with me
On the bank of the river,water is grudged by that one alonewho is blind to the flowing stream.
~~~~~~~~~~
Bar lab-e ju bokhl-e âb ân-râ bovadku ze ju-ye âb nâ-binâ bovad
– Mathnawi II:894Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski”Rumi: Daylight”Threshold Books, 1994Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra
In 2006, I read this brilliant poem by Brijinder”Sagar (found here on Adnan’s brilliant site). I had kept it with me for an adequate translation. I have been unable to do justice and therefore I will rework my draft to post here. In the meantime, this poem will be accessible to Urdu-Hindustani speakers. This poem is about bigotry and extremism in the name of religion that has overtaken India as well as other South Asian countries. Pakistan is no exception and Bangladesh is also witnessing the rise of Islamism, though not as alarming as India and Pakistan. Sri Lanka has also seen ethnic warfare, different in its manifestation but akin to the violence and death that comes in its wake. In such a charged environment, voices for peace are delightful.
SadioN ki pehchaanaiN sub bhool aayaayaz mihr taa bah-;zarrah dil-o-dil hai aa))inah
:tuu:tii ko shash jihat se muqaabil hai aa))inah
1) from sun to sand-grain– heart; and heart is a mirror
2) {from / by means of} the six directions, a mirror confronts the parrot
Translation and commentary on Desertful of Roses. Parallel commentary on The South Asian Idea. (more…)
Courtesy mehr-i-niimroz, I found one of my favourite verses from Ghalib
taa((at me;N taa rahe nah mai-o-angabii;N kii laag
doza;x me;N ;Daal do ko))ii le kar bihisht ko
1) so that, in obedience/worship, the attachment/desire of wine and honey does not remain
2) take Paradise, and cast it into Hell
Commentary here
These pithy Urdu verses by Nazeer Akbarabadi lament that all will be abandoned when the Banjara (gypsy), the headman or Naik in the folklore, [or at a general level the life-traveller] will leave his temporal abode. (more…)
Thanks to my friend Fawad, I have been introduced to the fine poetry of , Wislawa Szymborska (b. 1923) also the 1996 Polish Nobel Laureate.
A Few Words on the Soul
We have a soul at times.
No one’s got it non-stop,
for keeps.
Day after day,
year after year
may pass without it.
Sometimes
it will settle for awhile
only in childhood’s fears and raptures
Sometimes only in astonishment
that we are old.
It rarely lends a hand
in uphill tasks,
like moving furniture,
or lifting luggage,
or going miles in shoes that pinch.
It usually steps out
whenever meat needs chopping
or forms have to be filled.
For every thousand conversations
it participates in one,
if even that,
since it prefers silence.
Just when our body goes from ache to pain,
it slips off-duty.
It’s picky,
it doesn’t like seeing us in crowds.
our hustling for a dubious advantage
and creaky machinations make it sick.
Joy and sorrow
aren’t two different feelings for it.
It attends us
only when the two are joined.
We can count on it
when we’re sure of nothing
and curious about everything.
Among the material objects
it favors clocks with pendulums
and mirrors, which keep on working
even when no one is looking.
It won’t say where it comes from
or when it’s taking off again,
though it’s clearly expecting such questions.
We need it
but apparently
it needs us
for some reason too.
(Translated from the Polish by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh)
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