#160869 by *~Pranjal~*
July 6th, 2013, 11:35 am

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A poem “Mirza Ghalib” in Hindi ( below translated in english)

hazaaro Khvaahishe aisii ki har Khvaaish pe dam nikale
bahut nikale mere armaa lekin phir bhii kam nikale

Dare kyuu meraa qaatil kyaa rahegaa usakii gardan par
vo Khuu jo chashm-e-tar se umr bhar yuu dam-ba-dam nikale

nikalanaa Khuld se aadam kaa sunate aaye hai lekin
bahut be-aabaruu hokar tere kuuche se ham nikale

bharam khul jaaye zaalim tere qaamat kii daraazii kaa
agar is turraa-e-purapech-o-Kham kaa pech-o-Kham nikale

magar likhavaaye koii usako Khat to hamase likhavaaye
huii subah aur ghar se kaan par rakkhar qalam nikale

huii is daur me ma nsuub mujhase baadaa-ashaamii
phir aayaa vo zamaanaa jo jahaa se jaam-e-jam nikale

huii jinase tavaqqo Khastagii kii daad paane kii
vo hamase bhii ziyaadaa Khastaa-e-teG-e-sitam nikale

muhabbat me nahii hai farq jiine aur marane kaa
usii ko dekh kar jiite hai jis kaafir pe dam nikale

zara kar jor siine par ki tiir-e-pursitam nikale
jo vo nikle to dil nikale jo dil nikale to dam nikale

Khudaa ke vaaste pardaa na kaabe se uThaa zaalim
Kahii aisaa na ho yaa bhii vahii kaafir sanam nikale

Kahaa maiKhaane ka daravaazaa ‘Ghalib’ aur kahaa vaaiz
par itanaa jaanate \nhai kal vo jaataa thaa ke ham nikale

hazaaro Khvaahishe aisii ki har Khvaaish pe dam nikale
bahut nikale mere armaa lekin phir bhii kam nikale

In English a poem of “Mirza Ghalib”

All these desires now drive my heart
and I could die of each
that no matter how much I suffer from them,
it’s still not enough .

There are thousands of ambitions that each such wish could consume my life
My desires , and I experience them all intensely, aren’t enough for this one lifetime.

so don’t cry , my love, you didn’t cause this pain

It was my fault that I fell so intensly in love with you.(why does my murderer fear that hangs around her neck,the consequence of the blood that gushes down from my head’s bloody wound )

Of the(unclean* ) birth of man, from the womb, one has heard
but you must see my rebirth when I passed shamelessly by your door!

The beauty of your flowing, offending, tresses can be fully exposed/experiened
only when I let down my hair (proper attitudes) as I would open my turban.

( for a long while), I wanted no more than that I get to write the poetic letters
your many admires make me write to you,
( i went each day, like to work , with a pen behind my ear)

and I was acquainted with such intoxication during this period(of knowing you), my love
that the world , after , appeared passionless and dry.

I wandered looking for sympathy (to god)
who was himself , it turned out,was lovesick for you
then for me, there was no difference between living and dying
and I lived , each last breath looking at you (the infidel) from afar,
I then steeled myself and prised out the arrow of cupid from my heart

so that when it left, it took my heart with it, and with it, my last breath.
but now you come back to me, and ask me to lift your veil(marriage for the moslems),
Stop! because you may find me as unfaitful(as you once were) in love..
(for god’s sake do not take off the veil that covers the Ka’aba. lest it turn out that in there i might find my unfaithful love)

And now my love, that we have both been love sick like this , I wonder
Where were those days of intoxication, and what is this call to faith

(it’s like we’re in revolving doors..You now want me to be married and faithful, when at one point I would have been nothing but that, from my intoxication! )

How can you compare the door to the winery with the drug store? yet it’s true that when he went, I was saved)
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