This poem was translated by Professor Carlo Coppola as part of the MULOSIGE Translations project. You can explore our collection of Urdu Poetry here.

Professor Carlo Coppola, Oakland University

Bīmār larkā / Sick Boy

Useless for me to come out of my mother’s womb. 

Even today I’m a prisoner.

.

I should change my mother’s command,

Go far away from her hate-laden eyes,

Wander about here and there,

Pick up thorns of sin

And vitiate my soul;

I should listen to lust-and-passion songs

.

And make my mind fearless.

I still long for such a life.

.

Love—everyone says she loves me.

How long have I been lying asleep beneath love’s ashes

They all lie. They disgust me

I hope the flame, now turned to smoke

Under the crush of ashes love will spring up once again.

.

    1 August 1957

.

From: Dard kā shahr (City of Suffering). Lāhaur: Naʼī maṭbūʻāt. 1965. p. 21

             

Useless for me to come out of my mother’s womb. 

Even today I’m a prisoner.

.

I should change my mother’s command,

Go far away from her hate-laden eyes,

Wander about here and there,

Pick up thorns of sin

And vitiate my soul;

I should listen to lust-and-passion songs

.

And make my mind fearless.

I still long for such a life.

.

Love—everyone says she loves me.

How long have I been lying asleep beneath love’s ashes

They all lie. They disgust me

I hope the flame, now turned to smoke

Under the crush of ashes love will spring up once again.

.

    1 August 1957

.

From: Dard kā shahr (City of Suffering). Lāhaur: Naʼī maṭbūʻāt. 1965. p. 21