clerk ka naghma-e-mohabbat

Meeraji

clerk ka naghma-e-mohabbat

Meeraji

MORE BYMeeraji

    sab raat mirī sapnoñ meñ guzar jaatī hai aur maiñ sotā huuñ

    phir sub.h devī aatī hai

    apne bistar se uThtā huuñ muñh dhotā huuñ

    laayā thā kal jo double-roTī

    us meñ se aadhī khaa.ī thī

    baaqī jo bachī vo merā aaj nāshta hai

    The Clerk's Love Song or the

    Love Song of the Clerk

    duniyā ke rañg anokhe haiñ

    jo mere sāmne rahtā hai us ke ghar meñ ghar-vālī hai

    aur daa.eñ pahlū meñ ik manzil hai makāñ vo ḳhālī hai

    aur baa.eñ jānib ik ayyāsh hai jis ke haañ ik dāshta hai

    aur in sab meñ ik maiñ bhī huuñ lekin bas nahīñ

    haiñ aur to sab ārām mujhe ik gesuoñ ḳhushbū nahīñ

    fāriġh hotā huuñ nāshte se aur apne ghar se nikaltā huuñ

    daftar raah par chaltā huuñ

    raste meñ shahr raunaq hai ik tāñgā hai do kāreñ haiñ

    bachche maktab ko jaate haiñ aur tāñgoñ kyā baat kahūñ

    kāreñ to chhichhaltī bijlī haiñ tāñgoñ ke tīroñ ko kaise sahūñ

    ye maanā in meñ sharīfoñ ke ghar dhan-daulat hai maayā hai

    kuchh shoḳh bhī haiñ māsūm bhī haiñ

    lekin raste par paidal mujh se bad-qismat maġhmūm bhī haiñ

    tāñgoñ par barq-e-tabassum hai

    bātoñ mīThā tarannum hai

    uksātā hai dhyān ye rah rah kar qudrat ke dil meñ tarahhum hai

    har chiiz to hai maujūd yahāñ ik nahīñ ik nahīñ

    aur merī āñkhoñ meñ rone himmat nahīñ aañsū nahīñ

    My night spent.

    All night I labour at dreams and sleep

    then, when morning, my mistress appears

    I rise off my bed and wash.

    Yesterday I bought a slice of bread

    I ate half, leaving the rest for breakfast today

    The world I live in is washed in the colours of strangeness

    a man who lives right in front of me has a woman at home

    on my right is a single storied house, now empty

    the voluptuary who lives on my left, has a mistress at home

    and among all this, I sit,

    I sit without you

    I and you: I, with every comfort, and one thing missing,

    The perfume of your tangled hair.

    I disentangle myself from breakfast, slip out of the house

    walk the road to the office,

    and on the way, pass the elegance of the town,

    a horse carriage, two cars,

    children passing by toward school,

    what more can I say about horse carriages?

    the cars, on the other hand, are sparking lightning,

    how can I bear the arrows slung at me from those carriages passing by

    in the time of similitude, this,

    this is the wealth pouring from the houses of proper gentry, this,

    this is an illusion, a mischief, a moment of innocence perhaps,

    but I on the road, I walk, my fate unturned, sorrowful, sad

    the sharp smile of electricity lighting up the carriages

    the amiable modulation of conversation

    this recognition hangs, waiting for me to come to it: does God have

    any compassion?

    everything lives here close by me, but for you,

    and I,

    I whose eyes no longer have the courage to cry.

    The road cuts back and forth, the prison passes by,

    perhaps I should lose my heart in work, unless someone grasps me,

    I carry my heart slowly into the office,

    my heart is simply innocent, foolish, a child—I give it away elsewhere,

    and the river of work pulls me into its flow, my senses damping

    When half the day has angled by, lost in its time,

    Our chief officer saunters in from his home

    summons me to his office,

    I am his servant called to will

    he talks forwards and then sidles sideways,

    his conversation quite without worth.

    I tire of his words,

    Leave them for a moment, to come back to my room

    to find a file,

    a fire sparks my heart: were I also an officer like him

    my house would distance itself from the town's dirt,

    the town's dusty streets would be far away, and I

    I'd have you,

    but I'm merely a munshi, and you:

    you’re queen of wealth, a purveyor of fame

    and this,

    this merely the story of my desire, more seasoned the earth.

    juuñ tuuñ rasta kaT jaatā hai aur bandī-ḳhāna aatā hai

    chal kaam meñ apne dil ko lagā yuuñ koī mujhe samjhātā hai

    maiñ dhīre dhīre daftar meñ apne dil ko le jaatā huuñ

    nādān hai dil mūrakh bachcha ik aur tarah de jaatā huuñ

    phir kaam dariyā bahtā hai aur hosh mujhe kab rahtā hai

    jab aadhā din Dhal jaatā hai to ghar se afsar aatā hai

    aur apne kamre meñ mujh ko chaprāsī se bulvātā hai

    yuuñ kahtā hai vuuñ kahtā hai lekin bekār rahtā hai

    maiñ us aisī bātoñ se thak jaatā huuñ thak jaatā huuñ

    pal-bhar ke liye apne kamre ko file lene aatā huuñ

    aur dil meñ aag sulagtī hai maiñ bhī jo koī afsar hotā

    is shahr dhuul aur galiyoñ se kuchh duur mirā phir ghar hotā

    aur hotī

    lekin maiñ to ik munshī huuñ ūñche ghar raanī hai

    ye merī prem-kahānī hai aur dhartī se bhī purānī hai

    sab raat meri sapnon mein guzar jati hai aur main sota hun

    phir subh ki dewi aati hai

    apne bistar se uThta hun munh dhota hun

    laya tha kal jo double-roTi

    us mein se aadhi khai thi

    baqi jo bachi wo mera aaj ka nashta hai

    The Clerk's Love Song or the

    Love Song of the Clerk

    duniya ke rang anokhe hain

    jo mere samne rahta hai us ke ghar mein ghar-wali hai

    aur daen pahlu mein ek manzil ka hai makan wo KHali hai

    aur baen jaanib ek ayyash hai jis ke han ek dashta hai

    aur in sab mein ek main bhi hun lekin bas tu hi nahin

    hain aur to sab aaram mujhe ek gesuon ki KHushbu hi nahin

    farigh hota hun nashte se aur apne ghar se nikalta hun

    daftar ki rah par chalta hun

    raste mein shahr ki raunaq hai ek tanga hai do karen hain

    bachche maktab ko jate hain aur tangon ki kya baat kahun

    karen to chhichhalti bijli hain tangon ke tiron ko kaise sahun

    ye mana in mein sharifon ke ghar ki dhan-daulat hai maya hai

    kuchh shoKH bhi hain masum bhi hain

    lekin raste par paidal mujh se bad-qismat maghmum bhi hain

    tangon par barq-e-tabassum hai

    baaton ka miTha tarannum hai

    uksata hai dhyan ye rah rah kar qudrat ke dil mein tarahhum hai

    har chiz to hai maujud yahan ek tu hi nahin ek tu hi nahin

    aur meri aankhon mein rone ki himmat hi nahin aansu hi nahin

    My night spent.

    All night I labour at dreams and sleep

    then, when morning, my mistress appears

    I rise off my bed and wash.

    Yesterday I bought a slice of bread

    I ate half, leaving the rest for breakfast today

    The world I live in is washed in the colours of strangeness

    a man who lives right in front of me has a woman at home

    on my right is a single storied house, now empty

    the voluptuary who lives on my left, has a mistress at home

    and among all this, I sit,

    I sit without you

    I and you: I, with every comfort, and one thing missing,

    The perfume of your tangled hair.

    I disentangle myself from breakfast, slip out of the house

    walk the road to the office,

    and on the way, pass the elegance of the town,

    a horse carriage, two cars,

    children passing by toward school,

    what more can I say about horse carriages?

    the cars, on the other hand, are sparking lightning,

    how can I bear the arrows slung at me from those carriages passing by

    in the time of similitude, this,

    this is the wealth pouring from the houses of proper gentry, this,

    this is an illusion, a mischief, a moment of innocence perhaps,

    but I on the road, I walk, my fate unturned, sorrowful, sad

    the sharp smile of electricity lighting up the carriages

    the amiable modulation of conversation

    this recognition hangs, waiting for me to come to it: does God have

    any compassion?

    everything lives here close by me, but for you,

    and I,

    I whose eyes no longer have the courage to cry.

    The road cuts back and forth, the prison passes by,

    perhaps I should lose my heart in work, unless someone grasps me,

    I carry my heart slowly into the office,

    my heart is simply innocent, foolish, a child—I give it away elsewhere,

    and the river of work pulls me into its flow, my senses damping

    When half the day has angled by, lost in its time,

    Our chief officer saunters in from his home

    summons me to his office,

    I am his servant called to will

    he talks forwards and then sidles sideways,

    his conversation quite without worth.

    I tire of his words,

    Leave them for a moment, to come back to my room

    to find a file,

    a fire sparks my heart: were I also an officer like him

    my house would distance itself from the town's dirt,

    the town's dusty streets would be far away, and I

    I'd have you,

    but I'm merely a munshi, and you:

    you’re queen of wealth, a purveyor of fame

    and this,

    this merely the story of my desire, more seasoned the earth.

    jun tun rasta kaT jata hai aur bandi-KHana aata hai

    chal kaam mein apne dil ko laga yun koi mujhe samjhata hai

    main dhire dhire daftar mein apne dil ko le jata hun

    nadan hai dil murakh bachcha ek aur tarah de jata hun

    phir kaam ka dariya bahta hai aur hosh mujhe kab rahta hai

    jab aadha din Dhal jata hai to ghar se afsar aata hai

    aur apne kamre mein mujh ko chaprasi se bulwata hai

    yun kahta hai wun kahta hai lekin bekar hi rahta hai

    main us ki aisi baaton se thak jata hun thak jata hun

    pal-bhar ke liye apne kamre ko file lene aata hun

    aur dil mein aag sulagti hai main bhi jo koi afsar hota

    is shahr ki dhul aur galiyon se kuchh dur mera phir ghar hota

    aur tu hoti

    lekin main to ek munshi hun tu unche ghar ki rani hai

    ye meri prem-kahani hai aur dharti se bhi purani hai

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