by
S. M. Yahiya Ibrahim
Jamshedpur, Jharkhand, India
Sar- e-Shaakh-e- Gul
(Transliteration of the original text)
Wo saayadaar shajar
jo mujh se dur, bahut dur hai, magar uski
lateef chaoN
sajal, narm chaandni ki tarah
mere wajood, meri shakhsiyat pe chayi hai
Wo maaN ki baaNhoN ki manind mehrbaaN shaakheN
jo har azaab meiN mujh ko samait leti haiN
wo ek mushfiq-e-dereena ki dua ki tarah
shareer jhonkoN se pattoN ki narm sargoshi
kalaam karne ka lahja mujhe sikhati hai
Wo dostoN ki hasiN muskurahatoN ki tarah
shafaq azaar, dhanak pairahan shagufe, jo –
mujhe zameeN se muhabbat ka dars dete haiN!
UdasiyoN ki kisi jaaN gudaaz saa’at meiN
maeN uski shaakh pe sar rakh ke jab bhi royee hooN
to meri palkoN ne mahsus kar liya fauran
bahut hi narm si ek pankhadi ka sheereeN lams!
(nami thi aaNkh meiN lekin maeN muskuraee hooN!)
Kadi hai dhoop
To phir barg barg hai shabnam
tapaaN hoN lahje
to phir phool phool hai resham
hare hoN zakhm
to sab koNploN ka ras marham!
Wo ek khushbu
jo mere wajood ke andar
sadaqatoN ki tarah zeena zeena utar rahi hai
kiran kiran meri sochoN meiN jagmagati hai
(mujhe qabool, ke wijdaN nahiN ye chaand mera
Ye raushni mujhe idraak de rahi hai magar!)
Wo ek jhoNka
jo us shahr e gul se aaya tha
ab uske saath bahut dur ja chuki hooN maeN
maeN ek nanhi si bacchii hooN aur khmoshi se
bas uski ungliyaaN thaame, aur aaNkheN band kiye
jahaN jahaN liye jaata hai, ja rahi hooN maeN!
Wo saayadaar shajar
jo din meiN mere liye maaN ka narm aaNchal hai
wo raat meiN, mere aaNgan pe thaharne wala
shafeeq, narm zabaaN, mehrbaan badal hai!
Mere dareechoN meiN jab chaandni nahiN aati
jo be charaagh koi shab utarne lagti hai
to meri aaNkheN kiran ke shajar ko sochti haiN
dabeez parde, nigahoN se hatne lagte haiN,
hazaar chaand, sar-e-shaakh-e-gul ubharte haiN!
On the Twig of the Rose Flower
That shady tree
who is far, very far away, from me,
but whose soft relaxing shade,
moist, watery and elegant,
like soft moonlight,
is spread on my being, on my persona.
Those clement boughs,
like the arms of mother,
that hugs me in all torments.
like the supplications of an old compassionate friend,
the soft whisper of the leaves with mischievous gusts,
trains me the accent to converse
like the pretty smiles of friends,
the twilight glows, opalescence buds,
that teaches me to love the land.
In the life-afflicting moments of despondencies,
putting my head on its boughs whenever I cried,
my eyelids felt immediately,
the sweet touch of quite a soft petal!
(though the eyes were moist but I smiled!)
(If) the sunlight is hard
then the leaves are dewy
(If) the tone is harsh
then the flowers are silky
(If) the wounds are fresh
then the sap of every sprout is a balm!
That one fragrance,
which, inside my being,
like truths, is descending stairs after stairs,
dazzles, beam like, in my thoughts,
(I accept, that this moon of mine is not intutional
this light is, giving me the understanding, but!)
That one gust
which came from the city of roses,
with that, now, I have gone far away,
I am a little girl and silently
just holding his fingers, and closing my eyes,
I am going wherever he is taking me down!
That shady tree,
which, for me, in the daytime, is mother’s tender apron-string,
which, at night, is the affectionate, benign, soft spoken, beneficent cloud,
that stops over my courtyard!
When the moonlight doesn’t come into my windows,
and a lamp less night starts descending,
my eyes think of the tree of beams,
thick veils start slipping from the eyebeams,
thousand moons arise on the twig of the rose flower!
Ajnabi
(Transliteration of the original text)
Khoi khoi aankheN
Bikhre baal
Shikan aalood qaba
Luta luta insaan!
Saaye ki tarah se mere saath raha karta hai – lekin
Kisi jagah mil jaye to
Ghabra ke mud jata hai
Aur phir dur se jaa kar mujhko takne lagta hai
Kaun hai ye?
The Stranger
Lost and despondent eyes
Messy hair
Crumpled robe
A withered man!
Lives with me, shadow like;
but,
being found anywhere,
turns back, frightened and jittered
and then, going away, from afar, stares at me:
Who is he?
Poet: Parween Shakir
Translation: S. M. Yahiya Ibrahim
