پھر کوئی آیا ، دل زار ؛ نہیں ، کوئی نہیں
راہ رو ہوگا ، کہیں اور چلا جاےگا
ڈھل چکی رات، بکھرنے لگا تاروں کا غبار ،
لڑکھڑانے لگے ایوانوں میں خوابیدہ چراغ ،
سو گیی راستہ تک تک کے ہر ایک راہ گزار
اجنبی خاک نے دھندھلا دے قدموں کے سراغ ،
گل کرو شمعیں ، بڑھا دو می و مینا و ایاغ ،
اپنے بے خواب کواڈون کو مقفل کر لو
اب یہاں کوئی نہیں ، کوئی نہیں، اے گا
- تنہائی میں ، فیض احمد فیض
फिर कोई आया दिल-ए -ज़ार , नहीं कोई नहीं
राह-राउ होगा, कहीं और चला जाएगा
ढल चुकी रात, बिखरने लगा तारों का ग़ुबार
लरखड़ाने लगे एवानों में ख्वाबीदा चिराग
सो गयी रास्ता तक तक के हर एक राह गुज़ार
अजनबी ख़ाक ने धुंधला दिए क़दमों के सुराग़
गुल करो शमाएँ, बढ़ा दो माय-ओ-मीना-ओ-अयाग़
अपने बेख्वाब किवाड़ों को मुक़फ़्फ़ल कर लो
अब यहां कोई नहीं, कोई नहीं, आयेगा ।
तन्हाई में, फैज़ अहमद फैज़
Suggested Translation : (By Agha Shahid Ali)
Someone, finally, is here! No, unhappy heart, no one -
just a passerby on his way.
The night has surrendered
to clouds of scattered stars.
The lamps in the hall waver.
Having listened with longing for steps,
the roads too are fast asleep.
A strange dust has buried every footprint.
Blow out the lamps, break the glasses, erase
all memory of wine. Heart,
bolt forever your sleepless doors,
tell every dream that knocks to go away.
No one, now no one will ever come here.
Note : I wish our school curriculum had more poetry of Faiz Ahmed Faiz - there is really no one quite like him. I read somewhere that Nehru was a big fan of Faiz and personally requested him as much to stay back in India during the partition. Apparently, Faiz replied that he would've loved to live in Delhi but his wife's heart was set in Lahore.
Note : It is a grave injustice to Hindi itself that it must be restricted within the confines of words of Sanskrit origin. This is never how Hindustani was spoken, and the post-partition Sankritisation of Hindustani is remorseful. There can be no good reason to cull the richness of a language by rejecting a huge part of it's vocabulary, especially one that is closer to the spoken language. Second, the prudish nature of Indian society has permeated into the school system in such a way, that there is no room for poetry that talks about grief, wine, or women - but really, what is poetry without them?
راہ رو ہوگا ، کہیں اور چلا جاےگا
ڈھل چکی رات، بکھرنے لگا تاروں کا غبار ،
لڑکھڑانے لگے ایوانوں میں خوابیدہ چراغ ،
سو گیی راستہ تک تک کے ہر ایک راہ گزار
اجنبی خاک نے دھندھلا دے قدموں کے سراغ ،
گل کرو شمعیں ، بڑھا دو می و مینا و ایاغ ،
اپنے بے خواب کواڈون کو مقفل کر لو
اب یہاں کوئی نہیں ، کوئی نہیں، اے گا
- تنہائی میں ، فیض احمد فیض
फिर कोई आया दिल-ए -ज़ार , नहीं कोई नहीं
राह-राउ होगा, कहीं और चला जाएगा
ढल चुकी रात, बिखरने लगा तारों का ग़ुबार
लरखड़ाने लगे एवानों में ख्वाबीदा चिराग
सो गयी रास्ता तक तक के हर एक राह गुज़ार
अजनबी ख़ाक ने धुंधला दिए क़दमों के सुराग़
गुल करो शमाएँ, बढ़ा दो माय-ओ-मीना-ओ-अयाग़
अपने बेख्वाब किवाड़ों को मुक़फ़्फ़ल कर लो
अब यहां कोई नहीं, कोई नहीं, आयेगा ।
तन्हाई में, फैज़ अहमद फैज़
Suggested Translation : (By Agha Shahid Ali)
Someone, finally, is here! No, unhappy heart, no one -
just a passerby on his way.
The night has surrendered
to clouds of scattered stars.
The lamps in the hall waver.
Having listened with longing for steps,
the roads too are fast asleep.
A strange dust has buried every footprint.
Blow out the lamps, break the glasses, erase
all memory of wine. Heart,
bolt forever your sleepless doors,
tell every dream that knocks to go away.
No one, now no one will ever come here.
Note : I wish our school curriculum had more poetry of Faiz Ahmed Faiz - there is really no one quite like him. I read somewhere that Nehru was a big fan of Faiz and personally requested him as much to stay back in India during the partition. Apparently, Faiz replied that he would've loved to live in Delhi but his wife's heart was set in Lahore.
Note : It is a grave injustice to Hindi itself that it must be restricted within the confines of words of Sanskrit origin. This is never how Hindustani was spoken, and the post-partition Sankritisation of Hindustani is remorseful. There can be no good reason to cull the richness of a language by rejecting a huge part of it's vocabulary, especially one that is closer to the spoken language. Second, the prudish nature of Indian society has permeated into the school system in such a way, that there is no room for poetry that talks about grief, wine, or women - but really, what is poetry without them?
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