This poem was translated by Professor Carlo Coppola as part of the MULOSIGE Translations project. You can explore our collection of Urdu Poetry here.
G̲h̲azal: Chalak ke kam nah ho aisī koʼī sharāb nahin̲/ Ghazal: There is no wine
There is no wine that, having been tipped, over, is not depleted.
O, Glance of the blooming narcissus! You have no rival.
.
One who is in a terrible condition is not in a fully terrible way;
This is the punishment of hells. That punishment is not from the beloved.
.
Tonight is that night when not every an atom is asleep;
The earth is awake because tomorrow there will be a revolution.
.
Life keeps on becoming pain; what will happen now?
Now, not even the prayers of that glance are of any benefit.
.
The caravan has such indications of storm and lightning
That the limitations of death are no check on it at all.
.
What are wine and drugs that have no tavern on their shoulders?
That which is not spread out upon an entire world is not a cloud.
.
Your love is no so wretched [as you think];
It has earth, it has sky, it has the world.
.
My belief is “World vs. Paradise”;
Thank God I am not seeking a reward.
.
Since when has the caravan of sorrow stopped at just one destination?
When has revolution not been the fellow-traveller of the age?
.
Don’t worry! After crushing the opponent’s head, he should not lift it.
When has flying dust not been the accompaniment of writers?
.
Those who are deprived of your pain here
Do not even possess the sorrow of the love of the world, we hear.
.
Right now, man’s blood may flow more like water;
Right now, there is no glow on the face of Life.
.
The sinners are saying this about the world:
This river full of rising waves is not a mirage.
.
O New World! This tossing of glances intermittently . . . how wonderful!
O, What glance of yours is there that is not the finest?
.
That face of the beloved which no one can see
Is, with luck, the eye and face of the Garden of Sorrow.
.
~~~
.
What is the cure of the restlessness of a wretched heart?
I know that your tyranny is not unlimited.
.
The arrow from the strong bow [youth] has broken the heart;
That youth which is not mature . . . how can it strike?
.
How can anyone know your sorrow and happiness or what they are;
There is no smile upon your lips; your eyes are not full of tears.
.
Despite having been ruined, this life is not bad;
Life at least shows the dreams of a better life.
.
Isn’t it possible that that hem of your daman [skirt], which is not to be found,
Is today my gariban [collar]?
.
O Firaq, look at the destruction of colour upon the face of the world;
The face of the moon and sun do not have that former lustre.
.
From: Gul-i nag̲h̲mah (Flower Songs), Part 1. Allahābād: Idārah-yi Anīs-i Urdū, 1971. pp. 108 – 109
There is no wine that, having been tipped, over, is not depleted.
O, Glance of the blooming narcissus! You have no rival.
.
One who is in a terrible condition is not in a fully terrible way;
This is the punishment of hells. That punishment is not from the beloved.
.
Tonight is that night when not every an atom is asleep;
The earth is awake because tomorrow there will be a revolution.
.
Life keeps on becoming pain; what will happen now?
Now, not even the prayers of that glance are of any benefit.
.
The caravan has such indications of storm and lightning
That the limitations of death are no check on it at all.
.
What are wine and drugs that have no tavern on their shoulders?
That which is not spread out upon an entire world is not a cloud.
.
Your love is no so wretched [as you think];
It has earth, it has sky, it has the world.
.
My belief is “World vs. Paradise”;
Thank God I am not seeking a reward.
.
Since when has the caravan of sorrow stopped at just one destination?
When has revolution not been the fellow-traveller of the age?
.
Don’t worry! After crushing the opponent’s head, he should not lift it.
When has flying dust not been the accompaniment of writers?
.
Those who are deprived of your pain here
Do not even possess the sorrow of the love of the world, we hear.
.
Right now, man’s blood may flow more like water;
Right now, there is no glow on the face of Life.
.
The sinners are saying this about the world:
This river full of rising waves is not a mirage.
.
O New World! This tossing of glances intermittently . . . how wonderful!
O, What glance of yours is there that is not the finest?
.
That face of the beloved which no one can see
Is, with luck, the eye and face of the Garden of Sorrow.
.
~~~
.
What is the cure of the restlessness of a wretched heart?
I know that your tyranny is not unlimited.
.
The arrow from the strong bow [youth] has broken the heart;
That youth which is not mature . . . how can it strike?
.
How can anyone know your sorrow and happiness or what they are;
There is no smile upon your lips; your eyes are not full of tears.
.
Despite having been ruined, this life is not bad;
Life at least shows the dreams of a better life.
.
Isn’t it possible that that hem of your daman [skirt], which is not to be found,
Is today my gariban [collar]?
.
O Firaq, look at the destruction of colour upon the face of the world;
The face of the moon and sun do not have that former lustre.
.
From: Gul-i nag̲h̲mah (Flower Songs), Part 1. Allahābād: Idārah-yi Anīs-i Urdū, 1971. pp. 108 – 109
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