zindan ki ek subh
raat baaqī thī abhī jab sar-e-bālīñ aa kar
chāñd ne mujh se kahā 'jaag sahar aa.ī hai
jaag is shab jo mai-e-ḳhvāb tirā hissa thī
jaam ke lab se tah-e-jām utar aa.ī hai'
aks-e-jānāñ ko vidā kar ke uThī merī nazar
shab ke Thahre hue paanī kī siyah chādar par
Prison Daybreak
Though it was still night
the moon stood beside my pillow and said:
Wake up,
the wine of sleep that was your portion
is finished. The wineglass is empty.
Morning is here.
I said goodbye to my beloved's image
in the black satin waters of the night
that hung still and stagnant on the world.
Here and there
moonlight whirled, the lotus dance commenced;
silver nebulas of stars dropped from the moon's white hand.
They went under, rose again to float, faded and opened.
For a long time night and daybreak swayed,
locked together in each other's arms.
jā-ba-jā raqs meñ aane lage chāñdī ke bhañvar
chāñd ke haath se tāroñ ke kañval gir gir kar
Dūbte tairte murjhāte rahe khilte rahe
raat aur sub.h bahut der gale milte rahe
In the prison yard
my comrades' faces, incandescent as candlelight,
flickered through the gloom. Sleep had washed them
with its dew, turned them into gold.
For that moment
thes faces were rinsed clean of grief for our people,
absoaved from the pain of separation from their dear ones.
sehn-e-zindāñ meñ rafīqoñ ke sunahre chehre
sath-e-zulmat se damakte hue ubhre kam kam
niiñd kī os ne un chehroñ se dho Daalā thā
des kā dard firāq-e-ruḳh-e-mahbūb kā ġham
In the distance a gong struck the hour;
wretched footsteps stumbled forward on their rounds,
wasted by near starvation, maestros of the morning shuffle,
lockstepped, arm in arm with their own terrible laments.
Mutilated voices, broken on the rack, awakened.
duur naubat huī phirne lage be-zār qadam
zard fāqoñ ke satā.e hue pahre vaale
ahl-e-zindāñ ke ġhazabnāk ḳharoshāñ naale
jin kī bāhoñ meñ phirā karte haiñ bāheñ Daale
Somewhere a door opened,
another one closed; a chain muttered, grumbled,
shrieked out loud. Somewhere a knife plunged
into the gizzard of a lock; a window went mad
and began to beat its own head.
lazzat-e-ḳhvāb se maḳhmūr havā.eñ jāgīñ
jel kī zahr-bharī chuur sadā.eñ jāgīñ
duur darvāza khulā koī koī band huā
duur machlī koī zanjīr machal ke roī
duur utrā kisī taale ke jigar meñ ḳhanjar
This is the way the enemies of life,
shaken from sleep, showed themselves.
These daemons, hacked from stone and steel,
use their great hands to grind down the spirit,
slim as a feather now, of my useless days and nights.
They make it cry out in despair.
The prisoners,
all of us, keep watch for our saviour
who is on his way in the form of a storybook prince,
arrows of hope burning in his quiver,
ready to let them fly.
sar paTakne lagā rah rah ke darīcha koī
goyā phir ḳhvāb se bedār hue dushman-e-jāñ
sang-o-faulād se Dhāle hue jināt-e-girāñ
jin ke changul meñ shab o roz haiñ fariyād-kunāñ
mere bekār shab o roz kī nāzuk pariyāñ
apne shahpūr kī rah dekh rahī haiñ ye asiir
jis ke tarkash meñ haiñ ummīd ke jalte hue tiir
raat baqi thi abhi jab sar-e-baalin aa kar
chand ne mujh se kaha 'jag sahar aai hai
jag is shab jo mai-e-KHwab tera hissa thi
jam ke lab se tah-e-jam utar aai hai'
aks-e-jaanan ko wida kar ke uThi meri nazar
shab ke Thahre hue pani ki siyah chadar par
Prison Daybreak
Though it was still night
the moon stood beside my pillow and said:
Wake up,
the wine of sleep that was your portion
is finished. The wineglass is empty.
Morning is here.
I said goodbye to my beloved's image
in the black satin waters of the night
that hung still and stagnant on the world.
Here and there
moonlight whirled, the lotus dance commenced;
silver nebulas of stars dropped from the moon's white hand.
They went under, rose again to float, faded and opened.
For a long time night and daybreak swayed,
locked together in each other's arms.
ja-ba-ja raqs mein aane lage chandi ke bhanwar
chand ke hath se taron ke kanwal gir gir kar
Dubte tairte murjhate rahe khilte rahe
raat aur subh bahut der gale milte rahe
In the prison yard
my comrades' faces, incandescent as candlelight,
flickered through the gloom. Sleep had washed them
with its dew, turned them into gold.
For that moment
thes faces were rinsed clean of grief for our people,
absoaved from the pain of separation from their dear ones.
sehn-e-zindan mein rafiqon ke sunahre chehre
sath-e-zulmat se damakte hue ubhre kam kam
nind ki os ne un chehron se dho Dala tha
des ka dard firaq-e-ruKH-e-mahbub ka gham
In the distance a gong struck the hour;
wretched footsteps stumbled forward on their rounds,
wasted by near starvation, maestros of the morning shuffle,
lockstepped, arm in arm with their own terrible laments.
Mutilated voices, broken on the rack, awakened.
dur naubat hui phirne lage be-zar qadam
zard faqon ke satae hue pahre wale
ahl-e-zindan ke ghazabnak KHaroshan nale
jin ki bahon mein phira karte hain bahen Dale
Somewhere a door opened,
another one closed; a chain muttered, grumbled,
shrieked out loud. Somewhere a knife plunged
into the gizzard of a lock; a window went mad
and began to beat its own head.
lazzat-e-KHwab se maKHmur hawaen jagin
jel ki zahr-bhari chur sadaen jagin
dur darwaza khula koi koi band hua
dur machli koi zanjir machal ke roi
dur utra kisi tale ke jigar mein KHanjar
This is the way the enemies of life,
shaken from sleep, showed themselves.
These daemons, hacked from stone and steel,
use their great hands to grind down the spirit,
slim as a feather now, of my useless days and nights.
They make it cry out in despair.
The prisoners,
all of us, keep watch for our saviour
who is on his way in the form of a storybook prince,
arrows of hope burning in his quiver,
ready to let them fly.
sar paTakne laga rah rah ke daricha koi
goya phir KHwab se bedar hue dushman-e-jaan
sang-o-faulad se Dhaale hue jinat-e-giran
jin ke changul mein shab o roz hain fariyaad-kunan
mere bekar shab o roz ki nazuk pariyan
apne shahpur ki rah dekh rahi hain ye asir
jis ke tarkash mein hain ummid ke jalte hue tir
Source:
Nuskha Hai Wafa (Pg. 181)
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