Tag: Urdu

Dilli

~ Sundeep Dougal ~ 1 Comment

क्या बूद-ओ-बाश पूछो हो पूरब के साकिनो
हम को ग़रीब जान के हँस हँस पुकार के
दिल्ली जो एक शहर था आलम में इंतिख़ाब
रहते थे मुंतख़ब ही जहाँ रोज़गार के
उस को फ़लक ने लूट के बरबाद कर दिया
हम रहने वाले हैं उसी उजड़े दयार के

kyaa buudo-baash puuchho ho puurab ke saakino
hum ko gariib jaan ke has has pukaar ke
Dilli jo ek shahar thaa aalam mai intikhaab
rahte the muntakhib hii jahaan rozgaar ke
us ko falak ne luuT ke viiraan kar diyaa
ham rahne vaale hain usii ujray dayaar ke

You the residents of the east who ask me where I come from
You who mock me, considering me poor
Delhi, which was once a select place of the world
Where only the chosen professionals lived
The heavens have looted it, made it a desolation
I am a resident of that deserted wilderness

– Mir Taqi Mir


दिल व दिल्ली दोनों अगर हैं खराब
पर कुछ लुत्फ उस उजड़े घर में भी है

dil va dilli dono agar hai kharaab
par kuchh lutf us ujRe ghar mein bhi hai

– Mir Taqi Mir

दिल्ली के न थे कूचे औराक़-ए-मुसव्वर थे
जो शक्ल नज़र आई तस्वीर नज़र आई

dillii ke naa the kuuche, auraaq-e-musawwar the
jo shaql nazar aai, tasviir nazar aaii

Not the streets of Delhi, these were works of art
Anything that was visible looked like a painting

– Mir Taqi Mir

दीदा-ए गिर्याँ हमारा नहर है
दिल ख़राबा जैसे दिल्ली शहर है

our weeping eyes are a water-channel
the heart is a ruin like the city of Delhi

– Mir Taqi Mir

दिल्ली में आज भीख भी मिलती नहीं उंहें
था कल तलक दिमाग़ जिंहें ताज‐ओ‐तख़्त का

in Delhi, today, they don’t receive even alms,
they who up till yesterday had a mind for crown and throne

– Mir Taqi Mir

Dil-o-Dilli donon agar hain kharaab
P’a kuchh lutf is ujde ghar mein bhi hain

My heart and my Delhi may both be in ruins
There are still some delights in this ravaged home.

– Mir Taqi Mir

इन दिनों गरचे दकन में है बड़ी क़द्र-ए-सुख़न
कौन जाए ‘ज़ौक़’ पर दिल्ली की गलियाँ छोड़ कर

in dinoN garche dakkan meN hai baRii qadr-e-suḳhan
kaun jaa.e ‘zauq’ par dillī kī galiyaaN chhoḌ kar

these days, though poetry is greatly valued in the Deccan
but who, Zauq, should now leave these streets of Delhi

Sheikh Ibrahim Zauq

tazkira dehli-e-marhūm kā ai dost na chheḌ
na sunā jā.egā ham se ye fasāna hargiz

Don’t start the story of the deceased Delhi, O friend
We definitely won’t be able to bear hearing this story

–Altaf Hussain Hali

है अब इस मामूरे में क़हत-ए ग़म-ए उलफ़त असद
हम ने ये माना कि दिल्ली में रहे खावेंगे क्या

hai ab is maamuure meN qaht-e Gam-e ulfat asad
ham ne yih maanaa kih dillii meN rahe khaaveNge kyaa

there is now in this town a dearth scarcity of the grief of love, Asad
Granted that we would remain in Delhi – what will we eat?

–Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib

Bahaar Aayi

~ Sundeep Dougal ~ Leave a comment

bahār aa.ī to jaise yak-bār
lauT aa.e haiñ phir adam se
vo ḳhvāb saare shabāb saare
jo tere hoñToñ pe mar-miTe the
jo miT ke har baar phir jiye the
nikhar ga.e haiñ gulāb saare
jo terī yādoñ se mushkbū haiñ
jo tere ushshāq kā lahū haiñ
ubal paḌe haiñ azaab saare
malāl-e-ahvāl-e-dostāñ bhī
ḳhumār-e-āġhosh-e-mah-vashāñ bhī
ġhubār-e-ḳhātir ke baab saare
tire hamāre
savāl saare javāb saare
bahār aa.ī to khul ga.e haiñ
na.e sire se hisāb saare

बहार आई तो जैसे यकबार
लौट आए हैं फिर अदम से
वो ख़्वाब सारे शबाब सारे
जो तेरे होंटों पे मर मिटे थे
जो मिट के हर बार फिर जिये थे
निखर गए हैं गुलाब सारे
जो तेरी यादों में मुश्कबू हैं
जो तेरे उश्शाक़ का लहू हैं
उबल पड़े हैं अज़ाब सारे
मलाल ए अहवाल दोस्तां भी
ख़ुमार ए आग़ोश ए महवशां भी
ग़ुबार ए ख़ातिर के बाब सारे
तेरे हमारे
सवाल सारे जवाब सारे
बहार आई तो खिल गए हैं
नए सिरे से हिसाब सारे

bahār aa.ī to jaise yak-bār
Spring is here as if suddenly

lauT aa.e haiñ phir adam se
back from nowhere are
 
vo ḳhvāb saare shabāb saare
all those dreams, all those beauties of youth
 
jo tere hoñToñ pe mar-miTe the
those who died longing for your lips
 
jo miT ke har baar phir jiye the
those who came alive every time after being destroyed
 
nikhar ga.e haiñ gulāb saare
all the roses glisten
 
jo terī yādoñ se mushkbū haiñ
those that are fragrant with the musk of your memory
 
jo tere ushshāq kā lahū haiñ
those that are the lifeblood of your lovers
 
ubal paḌe haiñ azaab saare
all the torments have boiled over
 
malāl-e-ahvāl-e-dostāñ bhī
the anguish and apprehensions about friends
 
ḳhumār-e-āġhosh-e-mah-vashāñ bhī
the intoxication of warm embraces
in the beauty of the moon
 
ġhubār-e-ḳhātir ke baab saare
in our dust of memories
 
tire hamāre
yours and mine
 
savāl saare javāb saare
all the questions, all the answers
 
bahār aa.ī to khul ga.e haiñ
have opened up again, with spring
 
na.e sire se hisāb saare
all the old accounts anew 


So my literal, almost word-by-word clunky translation with words looked up in the dictionary goes something like this:
 

Spring is here as if suddenly
back from nowhere
are all those dreams, all those beauties of youth
those who died longing for your lips
those who came alive every time after being destroyed
all these roses glisten
fragrant with the musk of your memory
the lifeblood of your lovers
all the torments have boiled over
the anguish and apprehensions about friends
the intoxication of warm embraces
in the beauty of the moon
in this dust of memories
yours and mine
all the questions, all the answers
have opened up again, with spring
all the old accounts anew 

(Hurried translation draft by SD)

Agha Shahid Ali takes liberties and transcreates this as follows:

It Is Spring, Again

It is spring, And the ledger is opened again.
From the abyss where they were frozen,
those days suddenly return, those days
that passed away from your lips, that died
with all our kisses, unaccounted.
The roses return: they are your fragrance;
they are the blood of your lovers.
Sorrow returns. I go through my pain
and the agony of friends still lost in the memory
of moon-silver arms, the caresses of vanished women.
I go through page after page. There are no answers,
and spring has come once again asking
the same questions, reopening account after account.