This poem was translated by Professor Carlo Coppola as part of the MULOSIGE Translations project. You can explore our collection of Urdu Poetry here.
Havelī / Mansion
A derelict mansion, this antiquated society,
Is taking tribute from the dead in its own death throes;
All roofs and doors drowned in a perpetual anguish.
Wherever one looks, there is darkness and ruin,
The wall cracks in the abode of snakes and scorpions;
O, how dark and dreadful are these slits
Where moneylenders and the rich live;
Where are the brahmins of Kashi and the fakirs of the Kaaba?
The palace for the swarm of highway robbers, murderers’ bedroom.
Crimes flourish there; sins glitter in it;
There justice and faith are beheaded;
There people are auctioned off night and day;
Its audience hall teaches the lesson of Death to Life;
There every sigh comes out as laughter;
In that place the god of silver and gold never sleeps;
Never does life pass by there, even by mistake.
The condition of the past is laughing at Life
Just as the beauty of an old whore laughs at chastity;
On one side the voiceless ones,
Beggars without bread and clothes whose hearts
Are being crushed, whose longing has been trampled,
From their eyes shoots forth the majesty of hell!
O God of the two worlds, you who are in every heart,
Look at the state of this masterpiece created by your hand!
I know who is the compatriot and companion of death,
The almighty god of this assembly of mourning.
The garment of religion cannot hide the scars of leprosy;
The Holy Spirit cannot extinguish the flames of hunger;
O youth of the world! O soul of the universe of Life!
O camel-driver of Life, O moving spirit of Life!
With your warm blood, being is like an illumined gathering
With your heavenly breath; life is a garden;
Lightning is your slave girl, earthquakes your ambassadors;
Your heart shatters Khaybar; your glance is Arjuna’s arrow;
Strike a melody which may make Life smile;
Play upon the instrument of Love and let Life smile.
.
Come, let us unfurl the banner of freedom on these ruins;
Come, let us unfurl the banner of freedom on these ruins.
.
From: Bisāt̤-i raqṣ (Dance Carpet). Ḥaidarābād, Inḍiyā: Istiqbāliyah kameṭī jashn-i Mak̲h̲dūm, 1966. pp. 69 – 72
A derelict mansion, this antiquated society,
Is taking tribute from the dead in its own death throes;
All roofs and doors drowned in a perpetual anguish.
Wherever one looks, there is darkness and ruin,
The wall cracks in the abode of snakes and scorpions;
O, how dark and dreadful are these slits
Where moneylenders and the rich live;
Where are the brahmins of Kashi and the fakirs of the Kaaba?
The palace for the swarm of highway robbers, murderers’ bedroom.
Crimes flourish there; sins glitter in it;
There justice and faith are beheaded;
There people are auctioned off night and day;
Its audience hall teaches the lesson of Death to Life;
There every sigh comes out as laughter;
In that place the god of silver and gold never sleeps;
Never does life pass by there, even by mistake.
The condition of the past is laughing at Life
Just as the beauty of an old whore laughs at chastity;
On one side the voiceless ones,
Beggars without bread and clothes whose hearts
Are being crushed, whose longing has been trampled,
From their eyes shoots forth the majesty of hell!
O God of the two worlds, you who are in every heart,
Look at the state of this masterpiece created by your hand!
I know who is the compatriot and companion of death,
The almighty god of this assembly of mourning.
The garment of religion cannot hide the scars of leprosy;
The Holy Spirit cannot extinguish the flames of hunger;
O youth of the world! O soul of the universe of Life!
O camel-driver of Life, O moving spirit of Life!
With your warm blood, being is like an illumined gathering
With your heavenly breath; life is a garden;
Lightning is your slave girl, earthquakes your ambassadors;
Your heart shatters Khaybar; your glance is Arjuna’s arrow;
Strike a melody which may make Life smile;
Play upon the instrument of Love and let Life smile.
.
Come, let us unfurl the banner of freedom on these ruins;
Come, let us unfurl the banner of freedom on these ruins.
.
From: Bisāt̤-i raqṣ (Dance Carpet). Ḥaidarābād, Inḍiyā: Istiqbāliyah kameṭī jashn-i Mak̲h̲dūm, 1966. pp. 69 – 72
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