This poem was translated by Professor Carlo Coppola as part of the MULOSIGE Translations project. You can explore our collection of Urdu Poetry here.
Barbat̤-i shikastah / Broken Lute
She said to me: “Please sing me a song;
My heart is cold; set it on fire!”
How beautiful her manner; how delicate her tone:
Longing, desire, command, prompting.
Humming in my drunkenness, I picked up the instrument
And struck the music of fidelity.
.
From every tired note arose the smoke of despondency,
A sigh from the broken lute.
1937
.
From: Āhang (Melody; 1938). Dihlī: Āzād Kitāb Ghar. 1956.p. 72
She said to me: “Please sing me a song;
My heart is cold; set it on fire!”
How beautiful her manner; how delicate her tone:
Longing, desire, command, prompting.
Humming in my drunkenness, I picked up the instrument
And struck the music of fidelity.
.
From every tired note arose the smoke of despondency,
A sigh from the broken lute.
1937
.
From: Āhang (Melody; 1938). Dihlī: Āzād Kitāb Ghar. 1956.p. 72
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