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mauzu-e-suKHan

Faiz Ahmad Faiz

mauzu-e-suKHan

Faiz Ahmad Faiz

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    gul huī jaatī hai afsurda sulagtī huī shaam

    Dhul ke niklegī abhī chashma-e-mahtāb se raat

    aur mushtāq nigāhoñ sunī jā.egī

    aur un hāthoñ se mas hoñge ye tarse hue haat

    un āñchal hai ki ruḳhsār ki pairāhan hai

    kuchh to hai jis se huī jaatī hai chilman rañgīñ

    jaane us zulf mauhūm ghanī chhāñv meñ

    TimTimātā hai vo āveza abhī tak ki nahīñ

    aaj phir husn-e-dil-ārā vahī dhaj hogī

    vahī ḳhvābīda āñkheñ vahī kājal lakīr

    rañg-e-rukHsār pe halkā vo ġhāze ġhubār

    sandalī haath pe dhuñdlī hinā tahrīr

    apne afkār ash.ār duniyā hai yahī

    jān-e-mazmūñ hai yahī shāhid-e-ma.anī hai yahī

    aaj tak surḳh o siyah sadiyoñ ke saa.e ke tale

    aadam o havvā aulād pe kyā guzrī hai?

    maut aur ziist rozāna saf-ārā.ī meñ

    ham pe kyā guzregī ajdād pe kyā guzrī hai?

    in damakte hue shahroñ farāvāñ maḳhlūq

    kyuuñ faqat marne hasrat meñ jiyā kartī hai

    ye hasīñ khet phaTā paḌtā hai jauban jin kaa!

    kis liye in meñ faqat bhuuk ugā kartī hai

    ye har ik samt pur-asrār kaḌī dīvāreñ

    jal-bujhe jin meñ hazāroñ javānī ke charāġh

    ye har ik gaam pe un ḳhvāboñ maqtal-gāheñ

    jin ke partav se charāġhāñ haiñ hazāroñ ke dimāġh

    ye bhī haiñ aise ka.ī aur bhī mazmūñ hoñge

    lekin us shoḳh ke āhista se khulte hue hoñT

    haa.e us jism ke kambaḳht dil-āvez ḳhutūt

    aap kahiye kahīñ aise bhī afsūñ hoñge

    apnā mauzu-e-suḳhan un ke sivā aur nahīñ

    tab.a-e-shā.er vatan un ke sivā aur nahīñ

    Poetry’s Theme

    The evening flickers, glows and falters to a halt.

    The night will come, washed clean with moonlight.

    And we shall speak again with gestures of our eyes,

    And those hands will clasp these yearning hands of mine.

    Is it her scarf, her face, her dress

    That makes the veil so bright, so clear?

    Does that earning glitter still

    in the ambiguous dark shade of her hair?

    Once again, her beauty will adorn the night:

    those dreamy eyes, those lines of black,

    that subtle hint of power on her cheek,

    that delicate line of henna on her palm.

    This, if any, is my world of thought, my poetry;

    this the soul of context, the heart of meaning.

    What have Adam’s luckless children suffered?

    in our cruel and bloody centuries?

    What have our forefathers suffered?

    What shall we suffer,

    in the daily battle of life and death?

    Why do these youthful and glamorous cities

    live in the hope of merely dying?

    Why does only hunger grow

    in fields where harvests are blooming?

    These mysterious frightening walls

    within which so many lives have been snuffed out

    each instant; these tortured dreams

    whose glow still haunts the minds of millions.

    These too are subjects of poetry

    And there are many, many more.

    But still-

    those gently parting lips.

    Those wicked curves!

    Tell me, friend:

    is there a more alluring subject anywhere?

    The subject of my verses is none else;

    the home for a poet’s heart is nowhere else!

    gul hui jati hai afsurda sulagti hui sham

    Dhul ke niklegi abhi chashma-e-mahtab se raat

    aur mushtaq nigahon ki suni jaegi

    aur un hathon se mas honge ye tarse hue hat

    un ka aanchal hai ki ruKHsar ki pairahan hai

    kuchh to hai jis se hui jati hai chilman rangin

    jaane us zulf ki mauhum ghani chhanw mein

    TimTimata hai wo aaweza abhi tak ki nahin

    aaj phir husn-e-dil-ara ki wahi dhaj hogi

    wahi KHwabida si aankhen wahi kajal ki lakir

    rang-e-rukHsar pe halka sa wo ghaze ka ghubar

    sandali hath pe dhundli si hina ki tahrir

    apne afkar ki ashaar ki duniya hai yahi

    jaan-e-mazmun hai yahi shahid-e-mani hai yahi

    aaj tak surKH o siyah sadiyon ke sae ke tale

    aadam o hawwa ki aulad pe kya guzri hai?

    maut aur zist ki rozana saf-arai mein

    hum pe kya guzregi ajdad pe kya guzri hai?

    in damakte hue shahron ki farawan maKHluq

    kyun faqat marne ki hasrat mein jiya karti hai

    ye hasin khet phaTa paDta hai jauban jin ka!

    kis liye in mein faqat bhuk uga karti hai

    ye har ek samt pur-asrar kaDi diwaren

    jal-bujhe jin mein hazaron ki jawani ke charagh

    ye har ek gam pe un KHwabon ki maqtal-gahen

    jin ke partaw se charaghan hain hazaron ke dimagh

    ye bhi hain aise kai aur bhi mazmun honge

    lekin us shoKH ke aahista se khulte hue honT

    hae us jism ke kambaKHt dil-awez KHutut

    aap hi kahiye kahin aise bhi afsun honge

    apna mauzu-e-suKHan un ke siwa aur nahin

    taba-e-shaer ka watan un ke siwa aur nahin

    Poetry’s Theme

    The evening flickers, glows and falters to a halt.

    The night will come, washed clean with moonlight.

    And we shall speak again with gestures of our eyes,

    And those hands will clasp these yearning hands of mine.

    Is it her scarf, her face, her dress

    That makes the veil so bright, so clear?

    Does that earning glitter still

    in the ambiguous dark shade of her hair?

    Once again, her beauty will adorn the night:

    those dreamy eyes, those lines of black,

    that subtle hint of power on her cheek,

    that delicate line of henna on her palm.

    This, if any, is my world of thought, my poetry;

    this the soul of context, the heart of meaning.

    What have Adam’s luckless children suffered?

    in our cruel and bloody centuries?

    What have our forefathers suffered?

    What shall we suffer,

    in the daily battle of life and death?

    Why do these youthful and glamorous cities

    live in the hope of merely dying?

    Why does only hunger grow

    in fields where harvests are blooming?

    These mysterious frightening walls

    within which so many lives have been snuffed out

    each instant; these tortured dreams

    whose glow still haunts the minds of millions.

    These too are subjects of poetry

    And there are many, many more.

    But still-

    those gently parting lips.

    Those wicked curves!

    Tell me, friend:

    is there a more alluring subject anywhere?

    The subject of my verses is none else;

    the home for a poet’s heart is nowhere else!

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    Abida Parveen

    Abida Parveen

    Faiz Ahmad Faiz

    Faiz Ahmad Faiz

    Zia Mohyeddin

    Zia Mohyeddin

    Source:

    Nuskha Hai Wafa (Pg. 89)

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