‘s post yesterday, reminded me of one of my favorites, again from Faiz Ahmed Faiz. The poem is particularly hard hitting in context of the war and it effects
I am once again making a valiant effort to paraphrase it as closely as possible and I am sure the effort will ultimately entail an apology to the poet… … Still
mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng
mai.n ne samajhaa thaa ki tuu hai to daraKhshaa.N hai hayaat
teraa Gam hai to Gam-e-dahar kaa jhaga.Daa kyaa hai
terii suurat se hai aalam me.n bahaaro.n ko sabaat
terii aa.Nkho.n ke sivaa duniyaa me.n rakkhaa kyaa hai (*)
tuu jo mil jaaye to taqadiir niguu.N ho jaaye
yuu.N na thaa mai.n ne faqat chaahaa thaa yuu.N ho jaaye
aur bhii dukh hai.n zamaane me.n mohabbat ke sivaa
raahate.n aur bhii hai.n vasl kii raahat ke sivaa
mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng
anaginat sadiyo.n ke taariik bahimaanaa talism
resham-o-atalas-o-kam_Khvaab me.n bunavaaye huye
jaa-ba-jaa bikate huye kuuchaa-o-baazaar me.n jism
Khaak me.n litha.De huye Khuun me.n nahalaaye huye
jism nikale huye amaraaz ke tannuuro.n se
piip bahatii hu_ii galate huye naasuuro.n se
lauT jaatii hai udhar ko bhii nazar kyaa kiije
ab bhii dil_kash hai teraa husn maGar kyaa kiije
aur bhii dukh hai.n zamaane me.n mohabbat ke sivaa
raahate.n aur bhii hai.n vasl kii raahat ke sivaa
mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng
Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Don’t ask me to love you as before, my sweetheart!
I had presumed that you will be the light of my life,
Your sorrows fade the sorrows of the world to insignificance,
Your face gives permanence to the blooms in this world,
What more is there to this world than your eyes…
If I get you (your love) the fate will be subservient to me,
Oh! but it was not thus, I had merely wished it to be so,
There is more to pain than the pain of my (unfulfilled) love
There is more to happiness than the happiness of our union
Don’t ask me to love you as before, my sweetheart!
Dark, dreadful sorcery of countless centuries,
Woven into silk and satin lace and brocade.
Bodies sold in markets and alleys, hither-thither,
Encrusted with ashes, bathed in blood.
Bodies taken from the cauldrons of diseases,
pus oozing from their festering ulcers.
I can’t take my eyes off from them, what can I do…
Your beauty is still just as heart-warming, but what can I do…
There is more to pain than the pain of my (unfulfilled) love
There is more to happiness than the happiness of our union
Don’t ask me to love you as before, my sweetheart!