This poem was translated by Professor Carlo Coppola as part of the MULOSIGE Translations project. You can explore our collection of Urdu Poetry here.
Tāshqand kī shām / Tashkent Evening
Celebrate the festival of love, for there is no longer the smell of blood;
Dark gunpowder clouds rained and cleared;
Battle lightning is calmed;
The Tashkent evening is rose-redolent.
.
Wake up the ambergris-nights of the beloved’s tresses;
Light the camphor candle of her silvery arm;
Spill the flowery glasses of long kisses.
This glass of red wine is for the beautiful ones of Tashkent;
This glass of green wine is for the beauties of Lahore;
This glass of white wine is for the beloveds of Delhi,
In which is mixed the colour of love’s sun.
The smile’s red hue blooms on the horizon;
The eager breeze of kind conversation glows;
The lips scatter flames and dew;
In this will the dawn of desire wash itself clean.
No one’s hair shall now be dishevelled in the evening of sorrow;
The youth shall not pass through the valley of fear;
The bold shall not land upon the shores of death;
The hair parting shall no longer be filled with dust and blood;
No longer shall the mother receive ‘glad tidings’ of her son’s death;
No longer shall anyone give ‘greetings’ to orphans.
.
Many flowers will blossom on the border of desire;
We will not know to whom the narcissus eyes belong;
Whose forehead the rose? Whose lips that tulip?
To whom the yawning of those branch arms belongs?
.
There will only be this: This earth belongs to riders,
The nameless rulers of the world of beauty;
This land belongs to the petitioners of love
Who were enamoured of flowers, who loved the dew.
Would to God that this dew continues to fall as it is now
And that the thirst of the earth will never be slaked with blood.
.
New Delhi ∙ 10 January 1966
From: Yāden̲ (Remembrances), 1963. pp. 93 – 95
Tāshqand kī shām is quoted in full in Urdu Poetry, 1935-1970
Celebrate the festival of love, for there is no longer the smell of blood;
Dark gunpowder clouds rained and cleared;
Battle lightning is calmed;
The Tashkent evening is rose-redolent.
.
Wake up the ambergris-nights of the beloved’s tresses;
Light the camphor candle of her silvery arm;
Spill the flowery glasses of long kisses.
This glass of red wine is for the beautiful ones of Tashkent;
This glass of green wine is for the beauties of Lahore;
This glass of white wine is for the beloveds of Delhi,
In which is mixed the colour of love’s sun.
The smile’s red hue blooms on the horizon;
The eager breeze of kind conversation glows;
The lips scatter flames and dew;
In this will the dawn of desire wash itself clean.
No one’s hair shall now be dishevelled in the evening of sorrow;
The youth shall not pass through the valley of fear;
The bold shall not land upon the shores of death;
The hair parting shall no longer be filled with dust and blood;
No longer shall the mother receive ‘glad tidings’ of her son’s death;
No longer shall anyone give ‘greetings’ to orphans.
.
Many flowers will blossom on the border of desire;
We will not know to whom the narcissus eyes belong;
Whose forehead the rose? Whose lips that tulip?
To whom the yawning of those branch arms belongs?
.
There will only be this: This earth belongs to riders,
The nameless rulers of the world of beauty;
This land belongs to the petitioners of love
Who were enamoured of flowers, who loved the dew.
Would to God that this dew continues to fall as it is now
And that the thirst of the earth will never be slaked with blood.
.
New Delhi ∙ 10 January 1966
From: Yāden̲ (Remembrances), 1963. pp. 93 – 95
Tāshqand kī shām is quoted in full in Urdu Poetry, 1935-1970
This poem was written on the day of the signing of the Tashkent Declaration, which brought an end to the 1965 Indo-Pakistan War, 10 January 1966; it was signed by India’s Prime Minister, Lal Bahadur Shastri (1904-1966), who died of a heart attack the following day; see Jafri’s poem“Usse nah ḍhūnḍo / Don’t Seek Him Out.”
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