Alam raseeda hoon, daman-e-tar ki baat suno

Zubaan bureeda hoon, zakhm-e-guloo sey harf karo

Shikasta paa hoon, malaal-e-safar ki baat suno

Musafir-e-rah-e-sehra-e-zulmat-e-shab se

Ab iltafat-e-nigar-e-sahar ki baat suno

seher ki baat, ummeed-e-seher ki baat suno

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

My translation

My heart is torn, listen to the wounded heart.

I am grief-stricken, listen to what the soaked kerchief says.

My tongue has been severed, have a word with the wound of the throat.

My feet are defeated, listen to the regrets about the journey.

From a traveller who passes at night through the desert of oppression,

hear now of the kind and bright morning to come!

Tidings of morning, morning of hope.

Hum parwarish-e-lauh-o-qalam karte rahenge
Jo dil pe guzarti hai raqam karte rahenge

Asbaab-e-gham-e-ishq baham karte rahenge
Viraani-e-dauraan pe karam karte rahenge

Haan talkhi-e-ayyaam abhi aur barhe gi
Haan ahl-e-sitam mashq-e-sitam karte rahenge

Manzur yeh talkhi yeh sitam hum ko gawaara
Dam hai to madaawa-e-alam karte rahenge

Maikhana salaamat hai to hum surkhi-e-mai se
Tazzain-e-dar-o-baam-e-haram karte rahenge

Baqi hai lahu dil mein to har ashk se paida
Rang-e-lab-o-rukhsar-e-sanam karte rahenge

Ek tarz-e-taghaaful hai so woh unko mubaarak
Ek arz-e-tamanna hai so hum karte rahenge

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MY TRANSLATION

To nurture pen and ink we would continue,
To commit to script what the heart goes through, we would continue

We shall continue to bear reasons of the pain of love
To be moral in the desolate times we would continue

Sure, the bitterness of the times would still surge
And yes the practice of tyranny by oppressors would continue

We accept this bitterness, this tyranny will be borne
Until death, to remedy and care we would continue

If the tavern is still inhabited, with the redness of wine
decorating the door and roof of the sanctuary, we would continue

If there is still blood left in heart, then with each tear drop
colouring lips and face of the beloved, we would continue

They are welcome to this trend of paying no heed
To express what the heart desires, though, we would continue

gulon mein rang bharey, baad-e-naubahaar chaley

chale bhi aao ke gulshan ka karobaar chaley

qafas udaas hai yaro, sabaa se kuchh to kaho

kahin to bahr-e-Khuda aaj zikr-e-yaar chaley

kabhi to subh tere kunj-e-lab se ho aaghaaz

kabhi to shab sar-e-kaakul se mushkebaar chale

badaa hai dard kaa rishtaa, ye dil gharib sahi

tumhaarey naam pe aaenge gham gusaar chaley

jo ham pe guzari so guzari magar shab-e-hijraan

hamaare ashk teri aaqabat sanwaar chaley

huzoor-e-yaar hui daftar-e-junun ki talab

girah mein leke garebaan ka taar-taar chaley

maqaam ‘Faiz’ koi raah mein jachaa hi nahin

jo ku-e-yaar se nikale to su-e-daar chaley

A few couplets of this ghazal were used in the Hindi film Haider, sung beautifully by Aritjit Sen. The original composition is that of Mehdi Hassan (see at the end of this post).

My Translation:

Adding colour to flowers, let the new spring breeze come

so that the dealings of garden could ensue, please come

The Cage is sad friends, please call out to the wind

Somewhere, for God’s sake, my beloved’s reference must come

At least one morning must begin with a fleeting touch of your lips

Scented with the musk of your hair, at least a night must come

This heart may be poor but the bond of pain is not trivial

Hearing your name, some sympathetic to me shall come

I had to, so I endured the evening of separation, but;

To embellish your inevitable future my tears have come

Before my beloved, documented proof of my passion was summoned

Clutching at the shreds of my honour I have come

No sojourn was to my liking along the way, ‘Faiz’

After I left beloved’s alley, straight to gallows I have come

Mein kya likhun ke jo mera tumhara rishta hai
wo ashiqi ki zuban me kahin bhi darj nahi
likha gaya hai bohot lutf-e-wasl-o-dard-e-firaq
magar ye kaifiyat apni raqam nahi hai kahin
ye apna ishq hum aaghosh jis mein hijr-o-wisal
ye apna dard ke hai kab se humdam maah-o-saal
is ishq-e khaas ko har ek se chhupaye huay
guzar gaya hai zamana gale lagaye huay

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

My translation

This poem is from the last anthology Ghubar-e-Ayyam by Faiz Ahmed Faiz. See this excellent post by Dr Mirza to know more about the disposition of last poems of the great poet. Also, probably you’d find it interesting to compare my translation of this poem with one by Rukhsana Ahmed. I have been working on this translation for many months… I kept coming back to it again and again but was not satisfied with they way it sounded. Then today I decided that I cannot do better than this and to publish it. Then I looked for and read Rukhsana Ahmed’s translation. It sounds very good and I must say that I’m quite intrigued and surprised by the difference in our interpretations!

Of our relationship, what should I say?

In the language of love nowhere is it inscribed.

Much has been written of love’s joys and pains

But my state of mind has never been described.

This love, where absence and presence entwine,

This pain, an old friend, which since years is mine,

A love that I’ve concealed from all and so apart,

An age has gone since I pressed it to my heart.

(Translation by Rukhsana Ahmed)

]]> https://ghazala.wordpress.com/2014/03/06/meinkyalikun/feed/ 6 264 ghazala https://ghazala.wordpress.com/2014/03/05/everyday/ https://ghazala.wordpress.com/2014/03/05/everyday/#comments Wed, 05 Mar 2014 14:38:39 +0000 http://ghazala.wordpress.com/?p=259 I am a tree

rooted

spreading branches

sprouting new leaves

wishing for a spot of sunlight

everyday

In this post I present to you several translations of a very simple and beautiful Qat’a (quartain) of Faiz.

Raat yun dil mein teri khoyi hui yaad aayi,
Jaise viraane mein chupke se bahaar aa jaye,
Jaise sehraaon mein haule se chale baad-e-naseem,
Jaise beemaar ko be-wajhe qaraar aa jaaye.

Khushwant Singh

At night your lost memory stole into my mind
As spring silently appears in the wilderness;
As in desert wastes morning breeze begins to blow
As in one sick beyond hope, hope begins to grow…

Vikram Seth

Last night your faded memory came to me
As in the wilderness spring comes quietly,
As, slowly, in the desert, moves the breeze,
As, to a sick man, without cause, comes peace.

Agha Shahid Ali

At night my lost memory of you returned

and I was like the empty field where springtime,
without being noticed, is bringing flowers;

I was like the desert over which
the breeze moves gently, with great care;

I was like the dying patient
who, for no reason, smiles.

Sarvat Rahman

Last night, your long-lost memory came back to me as though
Spring stealthily should come to a forsaken wilderness
A gentle breeze its fragrance over burning deserts blow
Or, all at once be soothed somehow the sick soul’s distress.

My Translation

The night brought to heart your long lost memory
And felt as though spring arrives in a desolate place
It felt like gentle morning breeze in a desert
As if without a reason the ailing receives solace.

I like Vikram Seth’s translation the best. It is the truest to the original literally and still manages to retain a certain ‘Faiz-like’ quality to the way it sounds. Agha Shahid’s translation is too laboured and wordy. It makes me think that probably his intended readers are western people who, he might have thought, would not get the South Asian idioms. Sarvat Hussain’s translation is a bit awkward in reading so offers little joy and Khushwant Singh’s reading of Faiz seem to me as if his focus is a little different than Faiz. When I read the qat’a, it seems to me that Faiz is describing the effect of this long lost memory presenting itself. Khushwant Singh seems to describing  the mode of arrival of the memory.

How do you like my translation?

I attempted a translation of his most popular poem which is also pretty representative of his work and approach.

Deep jis ka mehllaat hi mein jaley,
Chand logon ki khushiyon ko le kar chaley,
Wo jo saaye mein har maslehat ke paley,
Aisey dastoor ko,
Sub-he-be-noor ko,
Main nahein maanta,
Main nahein jaanta.

Main bhi khaaif nahein takhta-e-daar se,
Main bhi Mansoor hoon, keh do aghyaar se,
Kyun daraatey ho zindaan ki deevar se,
Zulm ki baat ko,
Jehl ki raat ko,
Main nahein maanta,
Main nahein jaanta.

“Phool shaakhon pe khilne lagey” tum kaho,
“Jaam rindon ko milne lagey” tum kaho,
“Chaak seenon kay silne lagey” tum kaho,
Iss khule jhooth ko,
Zehn ki loot ko,
Main nahein maanta,
Main nahein jaanta.

Tum nay loota hai sadyon hamaara sukoon,
Ab na hum per chalega tumhara fasoon,
Charaagar dardmandon ke bantey ho kyun?
Tum nahein charaagar,
Koi maane magar,
Main nahein maanta,
Main nahein jaanta.

Jalib used to recite his poetry in an extremely powerful tarannum (a musical rendition) during mushairas (gathering of poets and listeners and public meetings.

My Translation

Here’s an excerpt:

The concert hall at the Sydney Opera House holds 2,700 people. This blog was viewed about 11,000 times in 2011. If it were a concert at Sydney Opera House, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

‘Faiz’ is the name of not just a poet.

‘Faiz’ is a name of the aural experience that is at once full of sensuous beauty and excruciating reality. It is the name of the artifice that turns words into images. It is the name of the subtle sorcery that stirs extraordinary ardour in ordinary hearts. It is the name of the beacon of hope that inspires weary travellers to plod on.

‘Faiz’ is the name of voice of humanity’s yearning for freedom. It is the name of the voice raised by people so that they may fully determine their own destiny and truly realise their potential. It is the name of voice that pierces the darkness of oppression and illuminates minds. It is the name of the voice that provokes the weak into rebellion… the voice that startles people from their slumber.

‘Faiz’ is the name of not just a poet!

Or a potential whore

What does it matter

what the subjective details of this instance were

When the demons of past

raise their ugly head

they ask for blood

if its not people

at least relationships

the kill is not called for by need

and the dead are not eaten

the corpses are abandoned

left to rot

and fill the deepest niches in our beings

with their morbid stench

and then

I can be accused again

of being a woman.