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aaj ik aur baras biit gayā us ke baġhair

jis ke hote hue hote the zamāne mere

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tel ke saudagar

Translated By: M.A.R Habib

Noon Meem Rashid

Noon Meem Rashid

tel ke saudagar

Noon Meem Rashid

MORE BYNoon Meem Rashid

    buḳhārā samarqand ik ḳhāl-e-hindū ke badle!

    bajā hai buḳhārā samarqand baaqī kahāñ haiñ?

    buḳhārā samarqand nīndoñ meñ mad.hosh

    ik nīl-gūñ ḳhāmushī ke hijāboñ meñ mastūr

    aur rahravoñ ke liye un ke dar band

    soī huī mah-jabīnoñ palkoñ ke mānind

    ruusī ''hama-ūst'' ke tāziyānoñ se ma.azūr

    do mah-jabīneñ!

    buḳhārā samarqand ko bhuul jaao

    ab apne daraḳhshanda shahroñ

    tahrān o mash.had ke saqf o dar-o-bām fikr kar lo

    tum apne na.e daur-e-hosh-o-amal ke dil-āvez chashmoñ ko

    apnī na.ī ārzūoñ ke in ḳhūb-sūrat kināyoñ ko

    mahfūz kar lo!

    in ūñche daraḳhshanda shahroñ

    kotah fasīloñ ko mazbūt kar lo

    har ik burj-o-bāro par apne nigahbāñ chaḌhā do

    gharoñ meñ havā ke sivā

    sab sadāoñ sham.eñ bujhā do!

    ki bāhar fasīloñ ke nīche

    ka.ī din se rahzan haiñ ḳhema-fagan

    tel ke būḌhe sauda-garoñ ke libāde pahan kar

    vo kal raat aaj raat tīrgī meñ

    chale ā.eñge ban ke mehmāñ

    tumhāre gharoñ meñ

    vo dāvat shab jām-o-mīnā luḌhā.eñge

    nācheñge gā.eñge

    be-sāḳhta qahqahoñ hamhamoñ se

    vo garmā.eñgē ḳhūn-e-mahfil!

    Oil Merchants

    magar pau phaTegī

    to palkoñ se khodoge ḳhud apne murdoñ qabreñ

    bisāt-e-ziyāfat ḳhākistar-e-soḳhta ke kināre

    bahāoge āñsū!

    bahā.e haiñ ham ne bhī āñsū!

    go ab ḳhāl-e-hindū arzish nahīñ hai

    ezār-e-jahāñ par vo ristā huā gahrā nāsūr

    afrañg āz-e-ḳhūñ-ḳhvār se ban chukā hai

    bahā.e haiñ ham nai bhī aañsū

    hamārī nigāhoñ ne dekhe haiñ

    sayyāl sāyoñ ke mānind ghulte hue shahr

    girte hue bām-o-dar

    aur mīnār o gumbad

    magar vaqt mīnār hai

    aur dushman ab us ḳhamīda kamar se guzartā huā

    us ke nichle ufaq par luḌhaktā chalā rahā hai

    hamāre barahna o kāhīda jismoñ ne

    vo qaid-o-band aur vo tāziyāne sahe haiñ

    ki un se hamārā sitamgar

    ḳhud apne alaav meñ jalne lagā hai!

    For one black mole the towns of Buqara and Samarqand!

    But where now are Buqara and Samarqand?

    Buqara and Samarqand are lost in dreams

    Hidden in the veils of an azure silence

    Their doors closed to travellers

    mire haath meñ haath de do!

    mire haath meñ haath de do!

    ki dekhī haiñ meñ ne

    himāla o alvand choTiyoñ par shuā.eñ

    unhīñ se vo ḳhurshīd phūTegā āḳhir

    buḳhārā samarqand bhī sāl-hā-sāl se

    jis hasrat ke daryūza-gar haiñ!

    Like the eyelids of a beautiful sleeping woman

    Preserved from the lash of Russian ‘Pantheism'

    Two beauties!

    Forget Buqara and Samarqand

    And think now of your shining cities lol

    Of the roofs, doors and terraces of

    Tehran and Masshad

    Look to the

    Pleasant fountains of your age of sense and action

    And these beautiful metaphors of your new hopes

    Make high the low walls

    Of these splendid cities

    Post your sentries at every tower and rampart

    And in your homes, silence all sound?

    Save the wind

    For outside, beneath the city walls

    Robbers have long been pitching their tents i den

    Dressed as oil-merchants

    Tomorrow or tonight at dark

    They'll come as guests

    To your houses

    To drink from the goblets

    Of the banquet night

    They'll dance, sing

    And laugh impulsively, noisily

    To warm the blood of the gathering!

    But when dawn breaks

    Then you will dig

    Graves for your dead with your eyelashes

    Then you'll shed tears

    On the ashes of merriment’s' stage

    We also have shed tears

    -Though the black mole is worthless sait of boxit

    That deep oozing ulcer which arose on earth's cheek lite

    From Europeans' murdering lust-sobne sidlo zo

    We also have shed tears

    Cities, like liquid shadows, dissolving in waste

    Falling roofs and doors

    Minarets and domes

    But time is an arch

    And our enemy passes through its curved flanks won

    Rolling down its lower horizon

    Imprisoning and whipping

    Our naked, lean bodies

    Our tyrant begins to

    Sweat in his own fire

    buKHara samarqand ek KHal-e-hindu ke badle!

    baja hai buKHara samarqand baqi kahan hain?

    buKHara samarqand nindon mein madhosh

    ek nil-gun KHamushi ke hijabon mein mastur

    aur rahrawon ke liye un ke dar band

    soi hui mah-jabinon ki palkon ke manind

    rusi hama-ust ke taziyanon se mazur

    do mah-jabinen!

    buKHara samarqand ko bhul jao

    ab apne daraKHshanda shahron ki

    tahran o mashhad ke saqf o dar-o-baam ki fikr kar lo

    tum apne nae daur-e-hosh-o-amal ke dil-awez chashmon ko

    apni nai aarzuon ke in KHub-surat kinayon ko

    mahfuz kar lo!

    in unche daraKHshanda shahron ki

    kotah fasilon ko mazbut kar lo

    har ek burj-o-baro par apne nigahban chaDha do

    gharon mein hawa ke siwa

    sab sadaon ki shamen bujha do!

    ki bahar fasilon ke niche

    kai din se rahzan hain KHema-fagan

    tel ke buDhe sauda-garon ke libaade pahan kar

    wo kal raat ya aaj ki raat ki tirgi mein

    chale aaenge ban ke mehman

    tumhaare gharon mein

    wo dawat ki shab jam-o-mina luDhaenge

    nachenge gaenge

    be-saKHta qahqahon hamhamon se

    wo garmaengee KHun-e-mahfil!

    Oil Merchants

    magar pau phaTegi

    to palkon se khodoge KHud apne murdon ki qabren

    bisat-e-ziyafat ki KHakistar-e-soKHta ke kinare

    bahaoge aansu!

    bahae hain hum ne bhi aansu!

    go ab KHal-e-hindu ki arzish nahin hai

    ezar-e-jahan par wo rista hua gahra nasur

    afrang ki aaz-e-KHun-KHwar se ban chuka hai

    bahae hain hum nai bhi aansu

    hamari nigahon ne dekhe hain

    sayyal sayon ke manind ghulte hue shahr

    girte hue baam-o-dar

    aur minar o gumbad

    magar waqt minar hai

    aur dushman ab us ki KHamida kamar se guzarta hua

    us ke nichle ufaq par luDhakta chala ja raha hai

    hamare barahna o kahida jismon ne

    wo qaid-o-band aur wo taziyane sahe hain

    ki un se hamara sitamgar

    KHud apne alaw mein jalne laga hai!

    For one black mole the towns of Buqara and Samarqand!

    But where now are Buqara and Samarqand?

    Buqara and Samarqand are lost in dreams

    Hidden in the veils of an azure silence

    Their doors closed to travellers

    mere hath mein hath de do!

    mere hath mein hath de do!

    ki dekhi hain mein ne

    himala o alwand ki choTiyon par shuaen

    unhin se wo KHurshid phuTega aaKHir

    buKHara samarqand bhi sal-ha-sal se

    jis ki hasrat ke daryuza-gar hain!

    Like the eyelids of a beautiful sleeping woman

    Preserved from the lash of Russian ‘Pantheism'

    Two beauties!

    Forget Buqara and Samarqand

    And think now of your shining cities lol

    Of the roofs, doors and terraces of

    Tehran and Masshad

    Look to the

    Pleasant fountains of your age of sense and action

    And these beautiful metaphors of your new hopes

    Make high the low walls

    Of these splendid cities

    Post your sentries at every tower and rampart

    And in your homes, silence all sound?

    Save the wind

    For outside, beneath the city walls

    Robbers have long been pitching their tents i den

    Dressed as oil-merchants

    Tomorrow or tonight at dark

    They'll come as guests

    To your houses

    To drink from the goblets

    Of the banquet night

    They'll dance, sing

    And laugh impulsively, noisily

    To warm the blood of the gathering!

    But when dawn breaks

    Then you will dig

    Graves for your dead with your eyelashes

    Then you'll shed tears

    On the ashes of merriment’s' stage

    We also have shed tears

    -Though the black mole is worthless sait of boxit

    That deep oozing ulcer which arose on earth's cheek lite

    From Europeans' murdering lust-sobne sidlo zo

    We also have shed tears

    Cities, like liquid shadows, dissolving in waste

    Falling roofs and doors

    Minarets and domes

    But time is an arch

    And our enemy passes through its curved flanks won

    Rolling down its lower horizon

    Imprisoning and whipping

    Our naked, lean bodies

    Our tyrant begins to

    Sweat in his own fire

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