This poem was translated by Professor Carlo Coppola as part of the MULOSIGE Translations project. You can explore our collection of Urdu Poetry here.
Taʻāruf / Introduction
My name, my face or my person, my photograph—
I’m a captive in these broken—plaster walls.
Thought and conscience, my omissions, are my punishment.
The dark ruins of dreams are my estate.
.
I’m knocking at every door carrying the begging bowl of my eyes
In which every landscape is mixed a fatal poison.
With the mingling of the heart’s blood,
The poison becomes the Water of Life.
.
My bitter lyrics are the drops of this water.
Every small phrase conceals within itself the seed of history.
When the night spreads over the lanes of despair,
My writing ignites the torch of longing.
.
1966
.
From: Shab gasht (Evening Patrol). Allāhābād: Shabk̲h̲ūn Kitāb G̲h̲ar, 1969. p. 7
My name, my face or my person, my photograph—
I’m a captive in these broken—plaster walls.
Thought and conscience, my omissions, are my punishment.
The dark ruins of dreams are my estate.
.
I’m knocking at every door carrying the begging bowl of my eyes
In which every landscape is mixed a fatal poison.
With the mingling of the heart’s blood,
The poison becomes the Water of Life.
.
My bitter lyrics are the drops of this water.
Every small phrase conceals within itself the seed of history.
When the night spreads over the lanes of despair,
My writing ignites the torch of longing.
.
1966
.
From: Shab gasht (Evening Patrol). Allāhābād: Shabk̲h̲ūn Kitāb G̲h̲ar, 1969. p. 7
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