Ghalib
Dile Nadan tujhe hoowa kia hey
What has befallen you, O, the naive heart?
What is the remedy of this pain, after all?
While I crave, she abstains;
What happenstance is this, O God!
I too carry a tongue in the mouth;
To what purpose? Oh! Had you asked!
When there is none else besides you;
What is all this fuss, O God?
These fairy-faced people, what genre are they;
In their eyes and styles, what coquettish repertoire?
Why the amber- scented twist is part of the hair locks;
What is the mascara touch, with which the look is cast?
From where have descended the greenery and the flowers;
What are the clouds, what are the wind draughts?
We look forward to allegiance from those;
Who about the subject are completely at a loss?
Yes, the good done shall good accrue;
What else is the mendicant’s call!
I am ready to sacrifice my life for you;
Other orisons, I know nothing of.
Ghalib, I agree that it is nothing at all;
What bad, therefore, having it free of cost.
Iqbal
Chand aur Taray
Moon and Stars
Apprehending the approaching dawn;
The stars with the moon so chatted on.
“The sky-scape has remained unchanged
While we are tired of sparkling on and on.
Dawn or dusk we are tasked to go on;
On and on, go incessantly on.
Everything in the universe is restlessness entailed;
That which is called rest is a thing forlorn.
The stress of journey is incumbent upon all;
Stars, humans, trees, stones and all.
Will this journey ever draw to its close?
Will we ever get the destination to behold?
The moon responded, “O my buddies,
O the gleaners of the nocturnal field.
In motion lies the life of this world;
This is the ancient tradition of this turf.
The time-horse continues to gallop on,
Whipped up by the necessity thong.”
A sojourn is malapropos on this road;
Death lies concealed in the sojourn’s cloak.
Those opting to go, get in the lead;
Those choosing to stay get crushed under the feet.
Beauty is the outcome of this trek;
Seeded in love, it culminates in the beauteous best.
Faiz
Ab wohee hurf-e junoon sub ki zuban tehri ha;
Jo bhi chul nikli ha, who baat kahan teri ha.
The same passionate word is now on the tongue of all;
The one that gets going, when can such a word be stopped!
The thing that in deference to the cleric was hitherto profane;
The same sacrilegious thing has now been beatific ordained.
The news is hot that the cleric now goes elusively about;
In the alley of the idols the topic is being much talked about.
Laila’s cheek and Shireen’s lips were there and then;
Wherever the fond look made a short sojourn.
Having once wafted, when the fragrance can be gotten to grips;
Having emerged from the heart, how a lament can remain confined to the lips.
The hand of the grabber as well as of the flower clincher has no sway;
The flower’s fragrance nor the nightingale’s song can be curtailed.
Coming round, the spring must have made a momentary stay;
Going away, the autumn did a fleeting sojourn make.
Faiz, the style of protest that we did in the cage invent,
Has been adopted in the garden as a talking trend.
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