(after Ghalib)
Just a few return from dust, disguised as roses.
What hopes the earth forever covers, what faces?
I too could recall moonlit roofs, those nights of wine—
But Time has shelved them now in Memory’s dimmed places.
She has left forever, let blood flow from my eyes
till my eyes are lamps lit for love’s darkest places.
All is his—Sleep, Peace, Night—when on his arm your hair
shines to make him the god whom nothing effaces.
With wine, the palm’s lines, believe me, rush to Life’s stream—
Look, here’s my hand, and here the red glass it raises.
See me! Beaten by sorrow, man is numbed to pain.
Grief has become the pain only pain erases.
World, should Ghalib keep weeping you will see a flood
drown your terraced cities, your marble palaces.
– Agha Shahid Ali
This, again, is not a translation but a tip of the hat to Ghalib’s ghazal:
Chances are that Ali would be more familiar with the Begum Akhtar version, introduced here by Kaifi Azmi, on Ghalib’s 100th death anniversary:
Though a slightly younger generation perhaps would know it better in Jagjit Singh’s voice:
The text and translation below is from Frances Pritchett’s excellent site.
sab kahāñ kuchh lālah-o-gul meñ numāyāñ ho gaʾīñ
ḳhāk meñ kyā ṣūrateñ hoñgī kih pinhāñ ho gaʾīñ
Not all but some faces were able to become manifest in the form of tulips and roses
How many more faces there must be that became hidden
yād thīñ ham ko bhī rangārang bazm-ārāʾiyāñ
lekin ab naqsh-o-nigār-e t̤āq-e nisyāñ ho gaʾīñ
we too remembered colourful party-adornings
but now they have become ornaments in the niche of forgetfulness
thīñ banāt ul-naʿsh-e gardūñ din ko parde meñ nihāñ
shab ko un ke jī meñ kyā āʾī kih ʿuryāñ ho gaʾīñ
the Daughters of the Bier of the heavens were hidden, by day, in pardah
at night, what came into their inner-self, that they became naked?
qaid meñ yaʿqūb ne lī go nah yūsuf kī ḳhabar
lekin āñkheñ rauzan-e dīvār-e zindāñ ho gaʾīñ
although Jacob didn’t get news of Joseph in prison
still, his eyes became crevice-work in the wall of the cell
sab raqīboñ se hoñ nā-ḳhvush par zanān-e miṣr se
hai zulaiḳhā ḳhvush kih maḥv-e māh-e kanʿāñ ho gaʾīñ
all [lovers] may be unhappy with Rivals, but with the women of Egypt
Zulaikha is happy, in that they became absorbed in the Moon of Canaan [Joseph]
jū-e ḳhūñ āñkhoñ se bahne do kih hai shām-e firāq
maiñ yih samjhūñgā kih shamʿeñ do furozāñ ho gaʾīñ
let a stream of blood flow from the eyes, for it’s the evening/night of separation
I will consider that two candles have become radiant/illuminated
in parīzādoñ se leñge ḳhuld meñ ham intiqām
qudrat-e ḥaq se yihī ḥūreñ agar vāñ ho gaʾīñ
we will take revenge in Paradise on these Pari-born ones
if through the power of Justice/right/God, only/emphatically they would there become Houris
nīnd us kī hai dimāġh us kā hai rāteñ us kī haiñ
terī zulfeñ jis ke bāzū par pareshāñ ho gaʾīñ
sleep is his, spirit/pride/’head’ is his, the nights are his
on whose shoulder your curls became scattered/tangled
maiñ chaman meñ kyā gayā goyā dabistāñ khul gayā
bulbuleñ sun kar mire nāle ġhazal-ḳhvāñ ho gaʾīñ
I hardly went into the garden!– [rather], so to speak, a school opened
the Nightingales, having heard my laments, became ghazal-{reciting/reciters}
vuh nigāheñ kyūñ huʾī jātī haiñ yā rab dil ke pār
jo mirī kotāhī-e qismat se mizhgāñ ho gaʾīñ
why do those glances, oh Lord, keep going through/beyond the heart?
[those glances] which, through my shortfall of fortune, became eyelashes
baskih rokā maiñ ne aur sīne meñ ubhrīñ pai bah pai
merī āheñ baḳhyah-e chāk-e garebāñ ho gaʾīñ
1a) although I stopped them, more/others welled up one after another in the breast
1b) I stopped them to such an extent– and they welled up one after another in the breast
2) my sighs became the stitching-up of the tearing of the collar
vāñ gayā bhī maiñ to un kī gāliyoñ kā kyā javāb
yād thīñ jitnī duʿāʾeñ ṣarf-e darbāñ ho gaʾīñ
1) even if I would go there, then what answer [would there be] for her insults?
2) as many blessings/supplications as I remembered, became expended on the Doorkeeper
jāñ-fizā hai bādah jis ke hāth meñ jām ā gayā
sab lakīreñ hāth kī goyā rag-e jāñ ho gaʾīñ
1) wine is life-{increasing/enhancing}; in whomever’s hand the glass came
2) all the lines of[his hand became, so to speak, the jugular vein
ham muvaḥḥid haiñ hamārā kesh hai tark-e rusūm
millateñ jab miṭ gaʾīñ ajzā-e īmāñ ho gaʾīñ
1) we are {a monotheist / monotheists}, our faith/sect/practice is the renunciation of customs/laws
2) when religions/groups were erased, they became parts of belief/faith/integrity
ranj se ḳhū-gar huʾā insāñ to miṭ jātā hai ranj
mushkileñ mujh par paṛīñ itnī kih āsāñ ho gaʾīñ
1) if a person would become accustomed to grief, then grief is erased
2) so many difficulties fell upon me, that they became easy
yūñ hī gar rotā rahā ġhālib to ay ahl-e jahāñ
dekhnā in bastiyoñ ko tum kih vīrāñ ho gaʾīñ
1) if Ghalib would keep on weeping {like this / for no reason}, then, oh people of the world
2) you just look at these towns– that they’ve become desolate
Juvenilia 