New Faiz Ahmed Faiz New beautiful poetry images shayri whatsapp status tiktok stories فیض احمد فیض اردو پوئٹری والا

 



ہمتِ التجا نہیں باقی
ضبط کا حوصلہ نہیں باقی

اِک تیری دید چِھن گئی مجھ سے
ورنہ دنیا میں کیا نہیں باقی

اپنی مشقِ ستم سے ہاتھ نہ کھینچ
میں نہیں یا وفا نہیں باقی

تیری چشم الم نواز کی خیر
دل میں کوئی گِلہ نہیں باقی

ہو چکا ختم عہدِ ہجر و وصال
زندگی میں مزہ نہیں باقی


 


آپ کی یاد آتی رہی رات بھر
چاندنی دل دکھاتی رہی رات بھر

گاہ جلتی ہوئی گاہ بجھتی ہوئی
شمع غم جھلملاتی رہی رات بھر

کوئی خوشبو بدلتی رہی پیرہن
کوئی تصویر گاتی رہی رات بھر

پھر صبا سایۂ شاخ گل کے تلے
کوئی قصہ سناتی رہی رات بھر

جو نہ آیا اسے کوئی زنجیر در
ہر صدا پر بلاتی رہی رات بھر

ایک امید سے دل بہلتا رہا
اک تمنا ستاتی رہی رات بھر

 


راز الفت چھپا کے دیکھ لیا
دل بہت کچھ جلا کے دیکھ لیا

اور کیا دیکھنے کو باقی ہے
آپ سے دل لگا کے دیکھ لیا

وہ مرے ہو کے بھی مرے نہ ہوئے
ان کو اپنا بنا کے دیکھ لیا

آج ان کی نظر میں کچھ ہم نے
سب کی نظریں بچا کے دیکھ لیا

فیضؔ تکمیل غم بھی ہو نہ سکی
عشق کو آزما کے دیکھ لیا

 


وہ بتوں نے ڈالے ہیں وسوسے کہ دلوں سے خوف خدا گیا
وہ پڑی ہیں روز قیامتیں کہ خیال روز جزا گیا

جو نفس تھا خار گلو بنا جو اٹھے تھے ہاتھ لہو ہوئے
وہ نشاط آہ سحر گئی وہ وقار دست دعا گیا

نہ وہ رنگ فصل بہار کا نہ روش وہ ابر بہار کی
جس ادا سے یار تھے آشنا وہ مزاج باد صبا گیا

جو طلب پہ عہد وفا کیا تو وہ آبروئے وفا گئی
سر عام جب ہوئے مدعی تو ثواب صدق و صفا گیا

ابھی بادبان کو تہ رکھو ابھی مضطرب ہے رخ ہوا
کسی راستے میں ہے منتظر وہ سکوں جو آ کے چلا گیا

 


سچ ہے ہمیں کو آپ کے شکوے بجا نہ تھے
بے شک ستم جناب کے سب دوستانہ تھے

ہاں، جو جفا بھی آپ نے کی قاعدے سے کی
ہاں، ہم ہی کاربندِ اُصولِ وفا نہ تھے

آئے تو یوں کہ جیسے ہمیشہ تھے مہرباں
بُھولے تو یوں کہ گویا کبھی آشنا نہ تھے

کیوں دادِ غم ہمیں نے طلب کی، بُرا کیا
ہم سے جہاں میں کشتۂ غم اور کیا نہ تھے

گر فکرِ زخم کی تو خطاوار ہیں کہ ہم
کیوں محوِ مدح خوبیِ تیغِ ادا نہ تھے

ہر چارہ گر کو چارہ گری سے گریز تھا
ورنہ ہمیں جو دکھ تھے ، بہت لادوا نہ تھے

لب پر ہے تلخیِ مئے ایّام، ورنہ فیض
ہم تلخیِ کلام پہ مائل ذرا نہ تھے

 



Faiz Ahmed Faiz New beautiful poetry images shayri whatsapp status tiktok stories

 


*جس دیس سے ماؤں بہنوں کو*

*جس دیس سے ماؤں بہنوں کو*


*اغیار اٹھا کر لے جائیں*


*جس دیس سے قاتل غنڈوں کو*


*اشراف چھڑا کر لے جائیں*


*جس دیس کی کورٹ کچہری میں*


*انصاف ٹکوں پر بکتا ہو*


*جس دیس کا منشی قاضی بھی*


*مجرم سے پوچھ کے لکھتا ہو*


*جس دیس کے چپے چپے پر*


*پولیس کے ناکے ہوتے ہوں*


*جس دیس کے مندر مسجد میں*


*ہر روز دھماکے ہوتے ہوں*


*جس دیس میں جاں کے رکھوالے*


*خود جانیں لیں معصوموں کی*


*جس دیس میں حاکم ظالم ہوں*


*سسکی نہ سنیں مجبوروں کی*


*جس دیس کے عادل بہرے ہوں*


*آہیں نہ سنیں معصوموں کی*


*جس دیس کی گلیوں کوچوں میں*


*ہر سمت فحاشی پھیلی ہو*


*جس دیس میں بنت حوا کی*


*چادر بھی داغ سے میلی ہو*


*جس دیس میں آٹے چینی کا*


*بحران فلک تک جا پہنچے*


*جس دیس میں بجلی پانی کا*


*فقدان حلق تک جا پہنچے*


*جس دیس کے ہر چوراہے پر*


*دو چار بھکاری پھرتے ہوں*


*جس دیس میں روز جہازوں سے*


*امدادی تھیلے گرتے ہوں*


*جس دیس میں غربت ماؤں سے*


*بچے نیلام کراتی ہو*


*جس دیس میں دولت شرفاء سے*


*نا جائز کام کراتی ہو*


*جس دیس کے عہدیداروں سے*


*عہدے نہ سنبھالے جاتے ہوں*


*جس دیس کے سادہ لوح انساں*


*وعدوں پہ ہی ٹالے جاتے ہوں*


*اس دیس کے ہر اک لیڈر پر*


*سوال اٹھانا واجب ہے*


*اس دیس کے ہر اک حاکم کو*


*سولی پہ چڑھانا واجب ہے*


فیض احمد فیض




 


راز الفت چھپا کے دیکھ لیا
راز الفت چھپا کے دیکھ لیا

دل بہت کچھ جلا کے دیکھ لیا

اور کیا دیکھنے کو باقی ہے

آپ سے دل لگا کے دیکھ لیا

وہ مرے ہو کے بھی مرے نہ ہوئے

ان کو اپنا بنا کے دیکھ لیا

آج ان کی نظر میں کچھ ہم نے

سب کی نظریں بچا کے دیکھ لیا

فیضؔ تکمیل غم بھی ہو نہ سکی

عشق کو آزما کے دیکھ لیا

 



ستم سکھلائے گا رسم وفا ایسے نہیں ہوتا

صنم دکھلائیں گے راہ خدا ایسے نہیں ہوتا

گنو سب حسرتیں جو خوں ہوئی ہیں تن کے مقتل میں

مرے قاتل حساب خوں بہا ایسے نہیں ہوتا

جہان دل میں کام آتی ہیں تدبیریں نہ تعزیریں

یہاں پیمان تسلیم و رضا ایسے نہیں ہوتا

ہر اک شب ہر گھڑی گزرے قیامت یوں تو ہوتا ہے

مگر ہر صبح ہو روز جزا ایسے نہیں ہوتا

رواں ہے نبض دوراں گردشوں میں آسماں سارے

جو تم کہتے ہو سب کچھ ہو چکا ایسے نہیں ہوتا

 


نہ سننے میں نہ کہیں دیکھنے میں آیا ہے

جو ہجر و وصل مرے تجربے میں آیا ہے

نئے سرے سے جل اٹھی ہے پھر پرانی آگ

عجیب لطف تجھے بھولنے میں آیا ہے

نہ ہاتھ میرے نہ آنکھیں مری نہ چہرہ مرا

یہ کس کا عکس مرے آئنے میں آیا ہے

جواز رکھتا ہے ہر ایک اپنے ہونے کا

یہاں پہ جو ہے کسی سلسلے میں آیا ہے

ہے واقعہ ہدف سیل آب تھا کوئی اور

مرا مکان تو بس راستے میں آیا ہے

وہ راز وصل تھا جو نیند میں کھلا مجھ پر

یہ خواب ہجر ہے جو جاگتے میں آیا ہے

جمالؔ دیکھ کے جیتا تھا جو کبھی تجھ کو

کہیں وہ شخص بھی کیا دیکھنے میں آیا ہے

 


حسرت دید میں گزراں ہیں زمانے کب سے

دشت امید میں گرداں ہیں دوانے کب سے

دیر سے آنکھ پہ اترا نہیں اشکوں کا عذاب

اپنے ذمے ہے ترا قرض نہ جانے کب سے

کس طرح پاک ہو بے آرزو لمحوں کا حساب

درد آیا نہیں دربار سجانے کب سے

سر کرو ساز کہ چھیڑیں کوئی دل سوز غزل

ڈھونڈتا ہے دل شوریدہ بہانے کب سے

پر کرو جام کہ شاید ہو اسی لحظہ رواں

روک رکھا ہے جو اک تیر قضا نے کب سے

فیضؔ پھر کب کسی مقتل میں کریں گے آباد

لب پہ ویراں ہیں شہیدوں کے فسانے کب سے

 


تو کہاں جائے گی یوں آنکھ بچا کر اس سے

اب بچھڑناہے تو پھر خود کو جدا کر اس سے

وہ بگڑتا ہے تو دنیا ہی بگڑ جاتی ہے

اس لئے رکھنی پڑی مجھ کو بنا کر اس سے

توکہانی میں کہیں ہے کہ نہیں ہے اے دل

پوچھنا ہو گا کسی روز بٹھا کر اس سے

کس طرح اس پہ ترے درد کا منظر کھلتا

تو محبت بھی تو کرتی تھی چھپا کر اس سے

جس طرح لہر کنارے کو چھوئے آخری بار

ایسا محسوس ہوا ہاتھ ملا کر اس سے

 

Faiz Ahmed Faiz was born in Sialkot, British India (now in Pakistan). Faiz was the son of Sultan Mohammed Khan who had risen from a poor shepherd to become a barrister through his scholastic prowess. His father though passed away in 1913.



 
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Kya jaaniye kya hua hai mujh mein Ayub Khawar

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شاہین حمیدہ یو ای ٹی سالانہ مشاعرہ

UET annual Mushaira Hameeda Shaheen

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Eh Arz e Pak Ashraf Javed

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Dinesh Naidu Kii Ghazalen Unhi Ki Aawaaz Me

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Like most Muslim children of the sub-continent Faiz began his education by learning to read and memorize the Quran in Arabic, at four years of age. He attained his primary education at Moulvi Ibrahim Sialkoti's famous school and studied Urdu, Persian and Arabic. Later he joined the Scotch Mission High School. He passed his matriculation examination from there in 1927. During this time he was also learning Arabic and Persian from Moulvi Syed Meer Hasan. Faiz started writing poetry while at school but was not encouraged by his family and so he gave it up.



Faiz did his inter-mediate from Murray College, Sialkot, and B.A, in 1931, from Government College, Lahore. Two years later he did his Masters in English and followed it with an M.A. in Arabic as well. While at Murray College he started writing poetry once more. His poetry of this period though was conformist poetry and about the more common subjects like love.



In Faiz's own words "the period between 1920 and 1930 constituted a state of carelessness, prosperity and exuberance, in which along with important national and political movements, in prose and poetry, there was an element of light heartedness, along with serious thinking and observation……………. In this atmosphere there was also the wonder of the beginning of love but we had just a glimpse of this period, when we reached the end of love's companionship."



After he graduated he took up a job as a lecturer in English at the M. A. O. College in Amritsar in 1935 and five years later he joined Hailey College of Commerce, Lahore.



Faiz had tremendous sympathy for the suffering of the people. While he was teaching at the M. A. O. College he became friendly with the Vice Principal Sahabzada Mehmood-uz-Zafar and his wife, Dr. Rasheeda Jahan. Both were committed socialists and lovers of literature as well. Under their influence Faiz's poetry underwent a tremendous change. The other influence on him was The Progressive Writers' Movement.



In 1935 in London, some writers with socialist ideologies, set up The Progressive Writers' Movement. The Movement emphasized the writer's responsibilties towards spreading and promoting positive, healthy and just values through his writings. Faiz found himself in total agreement with the movement's views and goals and this started a new phase in his writing career. Faiz did not agree with the doctrine of art for art's sake, or that artistic and social values are things apart. Beauty did not have mere artistic value, but it also had a social and moral value. According to Faiz poetry was a struggle in which, art and life demanded participation according to one's abilities.



Once again his own words explain his feelings well " In this school the first lesson we learnt was that to think of separating oneself from the world is, in the first place, useless. This is so because the experiences around us necessarily affected us. The self of a human being, despite all its loves, troubles, joys and pains, is a tiny, limited and humble thing. The measure of the vastness of life is the whole universe. Thus the agony of love and the agony of time are two aspects of one experience.



In his poetry, Faiz incorporated both the values of beauty and social responsibilities. His message was couched in beautiful words with an almost wistful quality. That is why Faiz's poetry was unlike the writings of his contemporaries, with a style more mellifluous, his tone soft, his poems smooth and flowing, unlike the works of other poets which had a more stronger tone.



A revolutionary battle song by Faiz is a fine example of this almost lyrical quality of his work.



For the love of your flower-like lips,

We were sacrificed on the dry branches of the noose,

For the desire of the candles of your hands

We were killed on half-dark paths.



Faiz's first collection, Naqsh-e-Faryaadi , was published in 1941.





In the same year Faiz married Ellis Catherine George, a British woman, in Srinagar, Kashmir. The marriage rites were performed by none other than Shaikh Abdullah, The Lion of Kashmir, a leader of the Kashmiri people.



As Faiz had already adopted socialist ideologies, due to his ideologies he was against Hitler and Nazism, also when Germany invaded the USSR he felt compelled to join the fight, he left this job and joined the British Indian Army as a Captain in 1942, he soon rose in the ranks and became Lieutenant Colonel in barely two years.



1947 was the year that changed the history of the sub-continent as well as the lives of many of its people. This was the year when India not only finally got its independence from Britain but it was also partitioned into mainly Hindu India and Muslim Pakistan. The much longed for independence brought in its wake turmoil and violent conflict. Hindus and Muslims who had fought for independence side by side suddenly were now fighting each other. Blood flowed on both sides. Punjab and Bengal were split into half. Lahore and Sialkot now both became a part of The Punjab which was given to Pakistan.

Faiz resigned from the army and returned to Lahore and took up a job as the editor of The Pakistan Times.



In 1951 Faiz was arrested, he was accused as being a co-conspirator in the Rawalpindi Conspiracy Case. In truth though, Faiz was merely acquainted with the military officers who had been planning a coup to overthrow the civilian government. The chief conspirator Akbar Khan, was a friend of a poet friend of Faiz; Sajjad Zaheer, who was also a founder member of the Progressive Writer's Movement and through this poet, Faiz had met the army officers planning the coup. Unfortunately for him it was an ill fated acquaintance, for Faiz too was arrested along with the army officers when the conspiracy came to light. He almost received the death sentence but later he was awarded a much lesser sentence of two and a half years. Along with the time he had spent in prison during his trial, Faiz spent four years in jail.



Faiz describes his time and experience in jail in these words

" Prison life, like love, is itself a fundamental experience which opens up a new vista of thoughts and insight. The first thing is that, like the dawn of love, all the sensations are again aroused and the mistiness of the early morning and evening, the blue of the sky, the gentleness of the breeze return with the same sense of wonder. And the second thing that happens is that the time and distances of the outside world are negated; the sense of distance and nearness is obliterated in such a way that a single moment weighs on the mind like the day of judgement and sometime the occurrences of a century seem to be like the happenings of yesterday. The third thing is that in the vastness of separation, one gets more time for reading and thinking and for decorating the bride of creativity."



The poems he wrote in jail were later compiled into the Dast-e-Saba, (1953) and Zinda-Nama (1956).



He worked in various jobs after his release, Though he had gone back to his job as editor of the Pakistan Times he lost it for his socialist sympathies, when a military coup succeeded in 1958. Later when civilian rule was once again re-established a year later he was appointed as The Secretary of the Pakistan Arts Council. After which he was appointed as the Principal of Abdullah Haroon College, Karachi. He also edited the monthly magazine Adabe-Latif from 1947 to 1958 as well as the Urdu newspaper Imroze and the weekly Lailo-Nihar. He also acted as editor of The Lotus Magazine.

Faiz continued to write and publish poetry. in 1956, his fourth collection, Dast Tah-e-Sang, was published, the fifth one was, Sar-e-Waadi-e-Sina in 1965, then Shaam-e-Shahr-e-Yaaraan in 1971, followed by Merey Dil Merey Musafir, and finally the last one, Kalaam-e-Faiz in 1981.



In 1962 he was awarded The Lenin Peace Prize by the former Soviet Union, a prize, which in the Socialist World had the same significance and esteem as the Nobel Peace Prize. While receiving the Lenin Peace Prize, Faiz recited a couplet of the Persian poet Hafez Shirazi, which perhaps in some ways embodies his thoughts;

"Every foundation you see is defective, except the foundation of love, which is faultless."
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"Dont ask me for the same love, my sweetheart"
A Prison Evening
Be Near Me
Before You Came
Do Not Ask My Love
Ghazal
Highway
It Is Spring Again
Last Night
Let Me Think
Loneliness
Loved a little, Worked a little…
My Heart, My Traveler
My Heart, My Traveler with English Translation
My Interview
Quatrain (With English Translation)
SHORISH-E-BARRABT-O-NAY
Solitude
Some Lover To Some Beloved!
Speak
Stanza
The Incarceration Of Loneliness
Tonight
Wasteland Of Solitude
We Shall See
We Who Were Executed
We, Who Were Slain In Unlit Pathways
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My poems (25)Titles list
Quatrain (With English Translation)
Original Urdu

Raat yunh dil mein teri khoee hui yaad aayee
Jaise veeraaney mein chupkey sey bahaar aa jaye
Jaisey sehra on mein howley se chaley baadey naseem
Jaisey beemaar ko bey wajhey Qaraar aa jaaye

English Translation

Last night, your lost memories crept into my heart
as spring arrives secretly into a barren garden
as a cool morning breeze blows slowly in a desert
as a sick person feels well, for no reason.
For an alternate English translation please look here.
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/59067-Faiz-Ahmed-Faiz-Last-Night © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes   
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 62  
Ghazal
I am being accused of loving you, that is all
It is not an insult, but a praise, that is all

My heart is pleased at the words of the accusers
O my dearest dear, they say your name, that is all

For what I am ridiculed, it is not a crime
My heart's useless playtime, a failed love, that is all

I haven't lost hope, but just a fight, that is all
The night of suffering lengthens, but just a night, that is all

In the hand of time is not the rolling of my fate
In the hand of time roll just the days, that is all

A day will come for sure when I will see the truth
My beautiful beloved is behind a veil, that is all

The night is young, Faiz start saying a Ghazal
A storm of emotions is raging inside, that is all

(Prison Journal)
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 35  
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Translated by Hamid Rahim Sheikh
English translationIndonesian
Before You Came
Original Urdu

tum jo naa aa'e the to har chiiz vahii thii kih jo hai
aasmaaN hadd-e-nazar, raahguzar raahguzar, shiishaah-e-mai,
shiishaah-e-mai

aur ab shiishaah-e-mai, raahguzar, rang-e-falak
rang hai dil kaa mere, "khoon-e-jigar hone tak"
champaa'i rang kabhii, raahat-e-diidaar kaa rang
sur'ma'ii rang kabhii, saa'at-e-bezaar kaa rang

zard pattoN kaa xas-o-xaar kaa rang
surkh phuuloN kaa, dahakte hu'e gulzaar kaa rang
zahar kaa rang, lahuu rang. shab-e-taar kaa rang

aasmaaN, rahguzar, shiishaah-e-mai
koii bhiigaa hu'aa daaman, ko'ii dukhtii hu'ii rag
ko'ii har lahzaah badaltaa hu'aa aa'iinaah hai

ab jo aa'e ho to Thahro kih koii rang, koii rut ko'ii shai
ek jagah par Thahre
phir se ik baar har ik chiiz vahii ho ke jo hai
aasmaaN hadd-e-nazar, rahguzar rahguzar, shiishaah-e-mai,
shiishaah-e-mai


English Translation by Naomi Lazard

Before you came things were just what they were:
the road precisely a road, the horizon fixed,
the limit of what could be seen,
a glass of wine was no more than a glass of wine.

With you the world took on the spectrum
radiating from my heart: your eyes gold
as they open to me, slate the color
that falls each time I lost all hope.

With your advent roses burst into flame:
you were the artist of dried-up leaves, sorceress
who flicked her wrist to change dust into soot.
You lacquered the night black.

As for the sky, the road, the cup of wine:
one was my tear-drenched shirt,
the other an aching nerve,
the third a mirror that never reflected the same thing.

Now you are here again—stay with me.
This time things will fall into place;
the road can be the road,
the sky nothing but sky;
the glass of wine, as it should be, the glass of wine.
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 15   Translated by Naomi Lazard
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When Autumn Came
This is the way that autumn came to the trees:
it stripped them down to the skin,
left their ebony bodies naked.
It shook out their hearts, the yellow leaves,
scattered them over the ground.
Anyone could trample them out of shape
undisturbed by a single moan of protest.

The birds that herald dreams
were exiled from their song,
each voice torn out of its throat.
They dropped into the dust
even before the hunter strung his bow.

Oh, God of May have mercy.
Bless these withered bodies
with the passion of your resurrection;
make their dead veins flow with blood again.

Give some tree the gift of green again.
Let one bird sing.
(translated by Naomi Lazard)
Each of the translations in The True Subject is a consequence of long and arduous collaborations between Lazard and Faiz -- Faiz would first provide Lazard with a literal translation of the poem, Lazard would then interrogate him on each and every aspect of the text to understand every nuance, every image, and every metaphor before beginning its English incarnation. The final result is remarkable: a reader familiar with both languages cannot fail to realize that the verses in both incarnations are the work of the same poet.
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 20  
English translationIndonesian
My Heart, My Traveler with English Translation
Dil e man Musafir e man
Meray dil meray musafir
hua phir sey hukm sadir
k watan badar hon hum tum

dein gali gali sadain
karein rukh nagar nagar ka
ke suraagh koi paein
kisi yar e nama bar ka

har ik ajnabi sey poochein
jo pata tha apney ghar ka
sar e kooey nashenayan
hamein din sey raat karna

kabhi iss sey baat karna
kabhi us sey baat karna
tumhein kya kahoon key kya hey
shab e gham buri balaa hey

hamein yeh bhi tha ghaneemat
jo koi shumaar hota
hamein kya bura tha marna
agar eik baar hota

English translation:

My heart, my fellow traveler
It has been decreed again
That you and I be exiled,
go calling out in every street,
turn to every town.
To search for a clue
of a messenger from our Beloved.
To ask every stranger
the way back to our home.

In this town of unfamiliar folk
we drudge the day into the night
Talk to this stranger at times,
to that one at others.

How can I convey to you, my friend
how horrible is a night of lonliness *
It would suffice to me
if there were just some count
I would gladly welcome death
if it were to come but once.
Translation by Hamid Rahim Sheikh www.ece.utexas.edu/~sheikh/poetry/faiz

(London 1978. Taken from the collection My Heart, My Traveler )

* adapted from a couplet by Ghalib © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes   
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 4   Translated by Hamid Rahim Sheikh
A Prison Evening
Each star a rung,
night comes down the spiral
staircase of the evening.
The breeze passes by so very close
as if someone just happened to speak of love.
In the courtyard,
the trees are absorbed refugees
embroidering maps of return on the sky.
On the roof,
the moon - lovingly, generously -
is turning the stars
into a dust of sheen.
From every corner, dark-green shadows,
in ripples, come towards me.
At any moment they may break over me,
like the waves of pain each time I remember
this separation from my lover.

This thought keeps consoling me:
though tyrants may command that lamps be smashed
in rooms where lovers are destined to meet,
they cannot snuff out the moon, so today,
nor tomorrow, no tyranny will succeed,
no poison of torture make me bitter,
if just one evening in prison
can be so strangely sweet,
if just one moment anywhere on this earth.

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"Dont ask me for the same love, my sweetheart"
Dont ask me for the same love, my sweetheart
I thought that life was radiant because of you
Why complain of worldly woes, once in your love-affliction
Your countenance brings eternity to the youth of spring
What else is there in the world but for the beauty of your eyes
If you were mine, my destiny would surrender to me

This was not so, only my wish for it to be
There are sufferings in the world other than the suffering of love
There are pleasures other than the delight of our union

Dark, heinous spells of uncountable centuries.
Woven into rich silk and precious brocades
being sold in every corner, bodies,
covered in dirt, drenched in blood.
Bodies, burning in hot ovens of disease
Pus seeping from open, lacerating wounds.

My sight returns to this as well, I am helpless
Your beauty is heart-warming still, but I am helpless

There are sufferings in the world other than the suffering of love
There are pleasures other than the delight of our union
Dont ask me for the same love, my sweetheart!
Translation by Hamid Rahim Sheikh www.ece.utexas.edu/~sheikh/poetry/faiz © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes   
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 7  
Loneliness
Someone is at the door again, my weeping heart, no, no one
Perhaps a passerby, who will go somewhere else

The night has passed, waiting, the star-dust is settling
Sleepy candle-flames are flickering in distant palaces
Every pathway has passed into sleep, tired of waiting
Alien dust has smudged all traces of footsteps

Blow out the candles, let the wine and cup flow
Close and lock your sleepless doors

No one, no one will come here now.
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 14   Translated by Hamid Rahim Sheikh
Last Night
Last night your lost memory visited my heart
as spring visits the wilderness quietly,
as the breeze echoes the silence of her footfalls
in the desert,
as peace slowly, softly descends on one's sickness.
For the original language version (and a variant translation) please look here.
http://oldpoetry.com/opoem/31884-Faiz-Ahmed-Faiz-Quatrain--With-English-Translation--wbr- © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes   
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 8   Translated by Azfar Hussain
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The Incarceration Of Loneliness
On the far horizon waved some flicker of light
My heart, a city of suffering, awoke in a state of dream
My eyes, turning restless, still dreaming,
the morning, dawning in this vacuous abode of separation

In the wine-cup of my heart, I poured my morning wine
Mixing in the bitterness of the past, the poison of the present

On the far horizon waved some flicker of light
far from the eye, a precursor to some morning
Some song, some scent, some unbelievably pretty face
went by unknowingly, carrying a distressful hope

Mixing in the bitterness of the past, the poison of the present
I proposed a toast to the longings on this day of prison-visit
To the fellow drinkers of my homeland and beyond
To the beauty of the worlds, the grace of beloved's lip and cheek

(Prison of Lahore Fort, 1959. Taken from the collection: The hand under the stone)

Translation by Hamid Rahim Sheikh www.ece.utexas.edu/~sheikh/poetry/faiz © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes   
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Some Lover To Some Beloved!
Down the memory lanes, on which
you've strolled since ages past
They will end if you walk farther a step or two
Where exits the turn towards the wilderness of forgetfulness
beyond which, there isn't any Me, nor any You
My eyes hold their breath, for any moment you
may turn back, move ahead, or at least turn to look back

Although my sight knows that the wish is just a farce
For if ever it were to run across your eyes again
right there will spring forth another pathway
Like always, where ever we run into, there will begin
another journey of your lock's shadow, your embrace's tremor

The other wish is also in error, for my heart knows
There is no turn here, no wilderness, no mountain-range
beyond whose horizon, my perpetual sun-of-your-Love can set
May you continue walking these pathways, its better this way
If you don't even turn to look back, it is okay


Translation by Hamid Rahim Sheikh www.ece.utexas.edu/~sheikh/poetry/faiz © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes   
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Loved a little, Worked a little…

Ku’ch Ishaq Ki’ya Ku’ch Kaam Ki’ya.

Who Log Bohat Khush Qismat Th’ay,
Jo Ishaq Ko Kam Samujhty Th’ay,
Ya Kam Say Aashqi Karty Th’ay,
Hum Jeety Jee Masroof Ra’hay,
Kuch Ishaq Kiya Kuch Kam Kiya,
Kam Ishaq Kay Aary Aata Ra’ha,
Or Ishaq Say Kam Uljh’ta Ra’ha,
Ph’ir Aakh’er Tang Aaker Hum Nay,
Dono Ko Adhoora Cho’d  Diya’.

English Translation.

Loved a little, Worked a little…

Those were very fortunate people,
Who considered Love an obligation,
Or they just loved their task,
I remained busy all my life,
Loved a little, worked a little,
Sometimes love was a snag in the way of my work,
While sometimes duty didn’t allow me to love with passion,
Ultimately I got upset of the situation,
And left both my love and my work incomplete.
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 9   Translated by Qazi Muhammad Ahkam
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Speak
Speak, your lips are free.
Speak, it is your own tongue.
Speak, it is your own body.
Speak, your life is still yours.

See how in the blacksmith's shop
The flame burns wild, the iron glows red;
The locks open their jaws,
And every chain begins to break.

Speak, this brief hour is long enough
Before the death of body and tongue:
Speak, 'cause the truth is not dead yet,
Speak, speak, whatever you must speak.
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 5   Translated by Azfar Hussain
Tonight
Do not strike the chord of sorrow tonight!
Days burning with pain turn to ashes.
Who knows what happens tomorrow?
Last night is lost; tomorrow's frontier wiped out:
Who knows if there will be another dawn?
Life is nothing, it's only tonight!
Tonight we can be what the gods are!

Do not strike the chord of sorrow, tonight!
Do not repeat stories of sufferings now,
Do not complain, let your fate play its role,
Do not think of tomorrows, give a damn--
Shed no tears for seasons gone by,
All sighs and cries wind up their tales,
Oh, do not strike the same chord again!
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 1   Translated by Azfar Hussain
Stanza

Urdu
Maata-e-loh-o-qalam chin gayi to kya ghum hai
K khun-e-dil men dubo li hain ungliyan mene
Zuban pe muhar lagi hai to kya ke rakh di hai
Har ek halqa-e-zanjeer men zubaan mene

English Translation

If they snatch my ink and pen,
I should not complain,
For I have dipped my fingers
In the blood of my heart.
I should not complain
Even if they seal my tongue,
For every ring of my chain
Is a tongue ready to speak.
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 3   Translated by Azfar Hussain
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Let Me Think
You ask me about that country whose details now escape me,
I don't remember its geography, nothing of its history.
And should I visit it in memory,
It would be as I would a past lover,
After years, for a night, no longer restless with passion,
With no fear of regret.
I have reached that age when one visits the heart merely as a courtesy.
Depending on the reader's mood this poem can be taken to be about many
things -- one's motherland, one's past lives and, indeed, one's past
loves. The overriding theme of time eroding every landscape holds for them
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My Interview
The wall has grown all black, upto the circling roof.
Roads are empty, travellers all gone. Once again
My night begins to converse with its loneliness;
My visitor I feel has come once again.
Henna stains one palm, blood wets another;
One eye poisons, the other cures.

None leaves or enters my heart's lodging;
Loneliness leaves the flower of pain unwatered,
Who is there to fill the cup of its wound with color?

My visitor I feel has come once again,
Of her own will, my old friend--her name
Is Death: a friend in need, yet an enemy--
The murderess and the sweetheart!
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 0   Translated by Azfar Hussain
We, Who Were Slain In Unlit Pathways
Inspired by the letters of Ethel and Julius Rosenberg

Wishing for the roses of your lips
we offered ourselves to a gallows' twig
Longing for the radiance of your glowing hands
we let ourselves be slain in unlit pathways

On the gallows away from our face
darted the redness of your ruby lips,
waved the playfulness of your youthful locks,
shone the glow of the silver palms.


When the evening of suffering settled in your alleys
we came, as far as our steps could bring
Words of poetry on our lips, a lamp of anguish in our hearts
Our suffering was a testimony to your beauty
See, we were faithful to our pledge
We, who were slain in unlit pathways.

If failure was our destined end
your love was indeed our own doing.
Who is to blame if all the roads of passion
led to the killing grounds of separation.

Picking up our flags from these grounds
will march forth more caravans of your lovers
For whose journeys' sake, our footsteps have
shortened the lengths of the agonizing quest
For whose sake we have made universal
by losing our lives, the pledge to your faithfulness
We, who were slain in unlit pathways.

(Montgomery Jail, 15 May 1954)

(Prison Journal)

Translation by Hamid Rahim Sheikh www.ece.utexas.edu/~sheikh/poetry/faiz © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes   
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4 Comments

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