The title says it all. This was in 1974. A Pakistani goes to the newly-created Bangladesh.
ham ki Thahre ajnabī itnī mudārātoñ ke ba.ad
phir baneñge āshnā kitnī mulāqātoñ ke ba.ad
kab nazar meñ aa.egī be-dāġh sabze kī bahār
ḳhuun ke dhabbe dhuleñge kitnī barsātoñ ke ba.ad
the bahut bedard lamhe ḳhatm-e-dard-e-ishq ke
thiiñ bahut be-mehr sub.heñ mehrbāñ rātoñ ke ba.ad
dil to chāhā par shikast-e-dil ne mohlat hī na dī
kuchh gile shikve bhī kar lete munājātoñ ke ba.ad
un se jo kahne ga.e the ‘faiz’ jaañ sadqe kiye
an-kahī hī rah ga.ī vo baat sab bātoñ ke ba.ad
Agha Shahid Ali’s Translation:
After those many encounters, that easy intimacy,
. we are strangers now —
After how many meetings will we be that close again?
When will we again see a spring of unstained green?
After how many monsoons will the blood be washed
. from the branches?
So relentless was the end of love, so heartless —
After the nights of tenderness, the dawns were pitiless,
. so pitiless.
And so crushed was the heart that though it wished
. it found no chance —
after the entreaties, after the despair — for us to
. quarrel once again as old friends.
Faiz, what you’d gone to say, ready to offer everything,
. even your life —
those healing words remained unspoken after all else had
. been said.
Juvenilia 