noon-meem-rashid

Dariche Ke Qarib

jaag ai sham-e-shabistan-e-visal

mahfil-e-khvab ke is farsh-e-tarab-nak se jaag!

lazzat-e-shab se tira jism abhi chuur sahi

aa miri jaan mere paas dariche ke qarib

dekh kis pyaar se anvar-e-sahar chumte hain

masjid-e-shahar ke minaron ko

jin ki rifat se mujhe

apni barson ki tamanna ka khayal aata hai

Near the Window

sim-gun hathon se ai jaan zara

khol mai-rang junun-khez ankhen

usi minar ko dekh

subh ke nuur se shadab sahi

usi minar ke saae tale kuchh yaad bhi hai

apne bekar khuda ki manind

unghta hai kisi tarik nihan-khane men

ek aflas ka maara hua mulla-e-hazin

ek ifrit udaas

tiin sau saal ki zillat ka nishan

aisi zillat ke nahin jis ka mudava koi

Lamp of Love’s chamber, awake!

Wake from this joyful floor of soft dreams

Your body still tired from night’s pleasure

Come by me, lover, near the window

And see with what passion dawn’s rays

Kiss the minarets of our city’s mosque

Whose height brings to mind my Age-long desire

dekh bazar men logon ka hujum

be-panah sail ke manind ravan

jaise jinnat bayabanon men

mishalen le ke sar-e-sham nikal aate hain

un men har shakhs ke siine ke kisi goshe men

ek dulhan si bani baithi hai

timtimati hui nannhi si khudi ki qindil

lekin itni bhi tavanai nahin

badh ke un men se koi shola-e-javvala bane!

in men muflis bhi hain bimar bhi hain

zer-e-aflak magar zulm sahe jaate hain

With your silver-white hands, my lovers

Open those wine-dark, bewildering eyes

See this minaret

Watered by early light

Beneath its shadow, I remember

A mournful, penniless priesto

Drowsing in a dark, hidden corner

Like a useless god

A devil, distressed!

Here is the stain of three hundred years

An indignity without cure.

See the crowd in the market place

Moving, an endless flow

As jinns in the wastelands

Emerge at early evening, bearing torches

A bride-like figure sits

In the corner of each man’s heart

the tiny lantern of Self flickers

Without strength to burst into

Spinning flame

Among these are the poor, the sick

Below the heavens tyranny marches on.

I an old, weary, ambling horse

Ridden by Hunger, hard and robust

I too, like others in the city

Come out, after each night of love, to

All this rubbish

the sky is turning where

At night I return to this same house

Knowing my helplessness, I peer again l

through this window

At the minarets of our city’s mosque

When they kiss the red sky a sad farewell.

ek budha sa thaka-manda sa rahvar huun main

bhuuk ka shah-savar

sakht-gir aur tanomand bhi hai

main bhi is shahr ke logon ki tarah

har shab-e-aish guzar jaane par

ba-har-e-jam-e-khas-o-khashak nikal jaata huun

charkh gardan hai jahan

shaam ko phir usi kashane men laut aata huun

bebasi meri zara dekh ke main

masjid-e-shahr ke minaron ko

is dariche men se phir jhankta huun

jab unhen alam-e-rukhsat men shafaq chumti hai

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