इश्क़ माशूक़ इश्क़ आशिक़ है
यानी अपना ही मुबतला है इश्क़
कौन मक़सद को इश्क़ बिन पहुंचा/
आरज़ू इश्क़ मुद्दआ है इश्क़
दर्द ही खुद है खुद दावा है इश्क़
शैख़ क्या जाने तू की क्या है इश्क़
तू न होवे तो नज़्म-ए-कुल उठ जाये
सच्चे हैं शायरां खुदा है इश्क़
Ishq kya hai
Ishq hee ishq hai jahaan dekho
Sarey aalam mein bhar rahaa hai ishq
Ishq maashooq ishq aashiq hai
Yaanee apnaa hee mubtala hai ishq
Kaun maqsad ko ishq bin pahoncha
Aarzoo ishq mudda’a hai ishq
Dard hee khud hai khud davaa hai ishq
Shaikh kya jaaney too ki kya hai ishq
Too na hovey to nazm-e-kul uth jaaye
Sachchey hain shaairaan khuda hai ishq
What is Love?
It is love and only love whichever way you look,
Love is piled high from the earth to the sky above.
Love is the Beloved, love the lover too,
In short, love is itself in love with love.
Without love, what man his goal attains?
Love is desire, love its ultimate aim.
Love is anguish, love the antidote of love’s pain
O wise man, what would you know of love?
Without love the order of the universe would be broken
God is love——truly have the poets spoken.
बादल, शराब, गुलाब और तू
मौसम-ए-अब्र हो सुबू भी हो
गुल हो गुलशन हो और तू भी हो
Baadal, sharaab, gul aur too
Mausam-e-abr ho suboo bhee ho
Gul ho gulshan ho aur too bhee ho
शमा और परवाना
कुछ न देखो फिर बाजुज़ यक शोला-ए-पूरपेच-ओ-ताब
शमा तक तो हमने देखा था की परवाना गया
Shamaa aur parvaana
Kuchh na dekha phir bajuz yak shola-e-purpeech-o-taab
Shamaa tak to hamney dekha thha ki parvaana gayaa
फ़रियाद
दिल किस क़दर शगुफ़्ता हुआ था की रात मीर
आई जो बात लब पे सो फ़रियाद हो गयी
Fariyaad
Dil kis qadar shagufta hua thha ki raat Meer
Aai jo baat lab pey so fariyaad ho gayee
Clouds, Wine, Roses and You
The season of clouds, a flask of wine too
Roses, the rose garden, as well as you.
The Moth and the Flame
I saw nothing besides the curving, leaping fire
The last thing I saw was the moth moving to the fire.
Cry for Help
How down-hearted was Meer at night!
Whatever he said became a cry for help.
पत्ता-पत्ता बूटा-बूटा
पत्ता-पत्ता बूटा-बूटा हाल हमारा जाने है
जाने ना जाने गुल ही ना जाने बाग़ तो सारा जाने है
चारागारी बीमारी-ए-दिल की रस्म-ए-शहर-ए-हुस्न नही
वरना दिलबर-ए-नादांन भी इस दर्द का चारा जाने है
Pattaa-pattaa bootaa-bootaa
Pattaa-pattaa bootaa-bootaa haal hamaaraa jaaney hai
Jaaney na jaaney gul hee na jaaney baagh to saaraa jaaney hai
Chaaraagaree beemaaree-e-dil kee rasm-e-shahar-e-husn naheen
Varnaa dilbar-e-naadaan bhee is dard ka chaaraa jaaney hai
शराब का जादू
शब को वो पिये शराब निकला
जाना यह की आफताब निकला
कुर्बान प्याला-ए-मै-नाब
जिस से की तेरा हिजाब निकला
Sharaab ka jaadu
Shab ko vo piye sharaab niklaa
Jaanaa yeh kee aaftaab niklaa
Qurbaan pyaalaa-e-mai-naab
Jis sey kee tera hijaab niklaa
Each Leaf, Every Flower
Every leaf of every plant and tree knows of my state
Only my beloved rose couldn’t care less; the rest of the garden knows my fate.
It is not as if the beloved is innocent of the cure for pain,
In the city of beauty it isn’t custom to nurse the sick of heart, why complain?
The Miracle of Wine
Last night she emerged, a little drunk
It was as if the sun was out.
My life I’d gladly give the wineglass
That drowned your modesty and brought you out.
इश्क़ में काफ़िर
उल्टी हो गई सब तदबीरें कुछ न दवा ने काम किया
देखा इस बीमारी-ए-दिल ने आख़िर काम तमाम किया
यां के सफ़ेदो-स्याह में हमको दाख़ला जो है सो इतना है
रात को रो-रो सुबह किया और दिन को जूं-तूं शाम किया
मीर के दीनो-मज़हब को अब पूछते क्या हो उन ने तो
कशक़ा खींचा देर में बैठा कब का तर्क इस्लाम किया
Ishq mein kaafir
Ultee ho gaee sab tadbeeren, kuchh na davaa ney kaam kiya
Dekha is beemaaree-e-dil ney aakhir kaam tamaam kiya
Yaan key saphed-o-siyaah mein hamko dakkhla jo hai so itnaa hai
Raat ko ro-ro subah kiya aur din ko joon-toon shaam kiya
Meer key deen-o-mazhab ko ab poochhtey kya ho un-ney to
Qashqaa kheenchaa, dair mein baithaa, kab ka tark Islaam kiya
Infidel in Love
Nothing I?ve tried has worked, even medicine?s proved useless
This sickness of the heart has done me in.
In this black-and-white of life, I have only this much say
The nights I spend shedding tears; somehow I make it through the day.
What is Meer?s faith, what religion is he, do you want to know?
He wears a sacred mark on his forehead and sits in a temple; he used to be Muslim long ago.
SHEIKH GHULAM HAMDANI MUS-HAFI
(1747–1823)
Mus-hafi was born in Amroha, a small town to the east of Delhi, and moved to Delhi during the reign of Shah Alam, joining the company of the Red Fort. He moved to Lucknow soon after, where he was employed at the court of a distinguished nawab. Mus-hafi was replaced by his rival Insha, and often attacked the society that had spurned him. A bon vivant and very outspoken, he made his name as a poet using simple everyday language. He also left behind accounts of the lives of the poets that preceded him. He died in Lucknow in 1823.
मुसाफ़िर-ए-बेकस
हसरत ये उस मुसाफ़िर-ए-बे-कस की रोइये
जो थक के बैठ जाता हो मंज़िल के सामने
Musaafir-e-bekas
Hasrat ye us musaafir-e-bekas kee roiye
Jo thhak key baith jaataa h
o manzil key saamney
ख़्वाब था या ख़्याल था
ख़्वाब था या ख़्याल था क्या था
हिजर था या विशाल था क्या था
चमकी बिज़ली सी पर ना समझे हम
हुस्न था या जामाल था क्या था
Khvaab thhaa ya khayaal thhaa
Khvaab thhaa ya khayaal thhaa kyaa thhaa
Hijr thhaa ya vishaal thhaa kyaa thhaa
Chamkee bijlee see par na samjhey hum
Husn thhaa ya jamaal thhaa kya thhaa
The Helpless Traveller
Spare your tears for the helpless traveller’s plight
Who tired sits by the wayside when his destination is in sight.
Was it a Dream or Memory
Was it a dream or a memory of you, I do not know
Was it separation from you or union, I do not know.
Was it lightning that flashed before me, I do not know
Was it your beauty or His spelndour, I do not know.
BAHADUR SHAH ZAFAR
(1775–1862)
Bahadur Shah Zafar, the last Mughal emperor, was born in 1775. By the time he ascended the throne, the empire had shrunk to the capital Shahjahanabad (Delhi) and its surroundings and he was emperor only in name, confined to the Red Fort where he ruled over a vast harem of courtesans, their offspring (salateen) and eunuchs. When the sepoys rose in revolt against the British in the summer of 1857, they forced Bahadur Shah to become their leader. He was not cut out to be one and was more interested in composing poetry and organizing mushairas. When the British and their Indian allies crushed the uprising, Bahadur Shah was put on trial for his role in the Mutiny, convicted and exiled to Burma. He lived the last few years of his life in Rangoon, where he died and is buried.
खुदा
न देखा वो कहीं जलवा
जो देखा ख़ाना-ए-दिल में
बहुत मस्जिद में सर मारा
बहुत सा ढूंढा बुतख़ाना
Khuda
Na dekha vo kaheen Jalva
Jo dekha khaana-e-dil mein
Bahut masjid mein sar maara
Bahut sa dhoonda butkhaana
आदमी और खुदा
ज़फर आदमी उसको न जानियेगा वह कैसा ही साहब-ए-फ़हमो-ज़का का
जिसे ऐश में याद-ए-खुदा न रही जिसे तैश में ख़ौफ़-ए-खुदा न रहा
Aadmi aur Khuda
Zafar aadmi usko na jaaniyega voh ho kaisa hee saahab-e-fahm-o-zakaa ka
Jisey aish mein yaad-e-khuda na rahee jisey taish mein khauf-e-khuda na rahaa
God Within
Nowhere did I see the Splendour
That I saw in the cave of my heart,
Many times I dashed my head in the mosque
Many times in the temple of idols Him I sought.
Man and His Maker
O Zafar! Know him not as a man, however clever, wise, benign;
Who in pleasure?s pursuit forgets his God, in anger?s passion, wrath divine.
ग़ज़ल
बात करनी मुझे मुश्किल कभी ऐसी तो न थी
जैसी अब है तेरी महफ़िल कभी ऐसी तो न थी
ले गया छीन के कौन आज तेरा सब्रो-क़रार
बेक़रारी तुझे ऐ दिल कभी ऐसी तो न थी
चश्मे-क़ातिल मेरी दुश्मन थी हमेशा लेकिन
जैसे अब हो गई क़ातिल कभी ऐसी तो न थी
उनकी आंखों ने खुदा जाने किया क्या जादू
की तबीयत मेरी माइल कभी ऐसी तो न थी
अकसे-रूख़े-यार ने किससे है तुझे चमकाया
ताब तुझमें माहे-कामिल कभी ऐसी तो न थी
क्या सबब तू जो बिगड़ता है ज़फ़र से हर बार
ख़ूब तेरी हूरे-शमाइल कभी ऐसी तो न थी
Ghazal
Baat karnee mujhey mushkil kabhee aisee to na thhee
Jaisee ab hai teree mehfil kabhee aisee to na thhee
Ley gayaa chheen key kaun aaj teraa sabr-o-qaraar
Beqaraaree tujhey ai dil kabhee aisee to na thhee
Chashm-e-qaatil meree dushman thhee hameshaa lekin
Jaisi ab ho gaee qaatil kabhee aisee to na thhee
Unkee aankhon ney khuda jaaney kiyaa kyaa jaadoo
Ki tabeeyat meree maa’il kabhee aisee to na thhee
Aks-e-rukh-e-yaar ney kissey hai tujhey chamkaayaa
Taab tujh mein maah-e-kaamil kabhee aisee to na thhee
Kyaa sabab too jo bigadtaa hai Zafar sey har baar
Khoo teree hoor-e-shamaa’il kabhee aisee to na thhee
Ghazal
I was never at a loss for words, almost dumb
Your gatherings were never what they?ve now become.
Who has robbed you of your patience, your peace of mind?
You were never this restless, dear heart, as now I find.
The assassin?s eyes were always my enemy
They have become even more venomous I can see.
God alone knows what sorcery her eyes contain
My spirits were never so low, as everyone can tell.
The reflection of my beloved?s face has a new shine
The full moon never lit the skies with such lustre divine.
Why is it that Zafar can do nothing right in your eyes?
You never behaved like the heartless houris of paradise.
शान-ए-हिदुस्तान
हिदुस्तान की भी अजब सरज़मीन है
जिसमें वफ़ा-ओ-महर-ओ-मोहब्बत का है वफ़ूर
जैसे की आफ़ताब निकालता है शर्क़ से
इख़लास का हुआ है इसी मुल्क से ज़हूर
है असला तुख़्म-ए-हिन्द और इस ज़मीन से
फैला है इस जहां में मेवा दूर दूर
Shaan-e-Hindustan
Hindustan kee bhee ajab sarzameen hai
Jis mein wafaa-o-mehr-o-mohabbat ka hai wafoor
Jaisey ki aaftaab nikalta hai sharq sey
Ikhlaas ka hua hai isee mulk sey zahoor
Hai asl tukhm-e-Hind aur is zameen sey
Phaila hai is jahaan mein ye mevaa door door
नाकारा
न किसी की आंख का नूर हूं
न किसी के दिल का क़रार हूं
जो किसी के काम न आ सके
मैं वो एक मुश्त-ए-ग़ुबार हूं
Naakaara
Na kisee kee aankh ka noor hoon
Na kisee key dil ka qaraar hoon
Jo kisee key kaam na aa sakey
Main vo ek musht-e-ghubaar hoon
Ode to Hindustan
Matchless is the soil of Hindustan
In it grow love, compassion and fidelity,
As sure as the sun rises from the east
So surges from this land sincerity.
This is the true seed of Hind and from its earth
These fruits have spread across the world, far and wide.
Usele
ss Existence
(attributed to Zafar but believed to be the words of Muztar Khairabadi)
I am not the light of anyone's eye
I am not the comfort of anyone's heart
Of no use to anyone am I:
I am just a fistful of dust.
SHEIKH IBRAHIM ZAUQ
(1789–1854)
Zauq was Ghalib?s contemporary and their rivalry was well known. The son of a common soldier in the Mughal army, Zauq was born in Delhi. He was stricken by small pox when he was a child and barely survived. Zauq was sent to a maktab (elementary religious school) run by Hafiz Ghulam Rasool (Shauq) who dabbled in poetry. Under his influence the young Mohammed Ibrahim began composing poetry and, as suggested by his mentor, adopted ?Zauq? (man of taste) as his pseudonym. Though he could not complete his course in the maktab, he was able to impress Shah Naseer, the most popular poet of Delhi at the time, who accepted him as a pupil. Gradually, Zauq began participating in mushairas and made a name for himself.
Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar appointed him poet laureate of the Mughal court. Zauq died in 1854 and was buried in the grounds of Delhi College outside Ajmeri Gate.
Celebrating the Best of Urdu Poetry Page 2
