(Bang-e-Dra-002) (گل رنگین) Gul-e-Rangeen

(Bang-e-Dra-002) Gul-e-Rangeen (The Colorful Rose)

Gul-e-Rangeen

The Colorful Rose

(1)

tu shanasa e kharash e auqda mushkil nahin

ae gul e rangeen tere pehlu mein shaid dil nahin

You are not familiar with the hardships of solving enigmas

O Beautiful Rose! Perhaps you do not have sublime feelings in your heart

(2)

zaib e mehfil hai, shareek e shorish e mehfil nahin

ye faraghat bazm e hasti mein mujhe hasil nahin

Though you adorn the assembly yet do not participate in its struggles

In life’s assembly I am not endowed with this comfort

(3)

iss chaman mein mein sarapa souz o saaz e aarzu

aur teri zindagani be gudaz e aarzu

In this garden I am the complete orchestra of Longing

And your life is devoid of the warmth of that Longing

(4)

torh lena shakh se tujh ko mera aaeen nahin

ye nazar ghair az nagah e chasm e surat been nahin

To pluck you from the branch is not my custom

This sight is not different from the sight of the eye which can only see the appearances

(5)

ah! ye dast e jafa ju ae gul e rangeen nahin

kis tarah tujh ko ye samjhaun ke main gulcheen nahin

Ah! O colourful rose this hand is not one of a tormentor

How can I explain to you that I am not a flower picker

(6)

kam mujh ko didah e hikmat ke uljhairon se kya

didah e bulbul se main karta hun nazara tera

I am not concerned with intricacies of the philosophic eye

Like a lover I see you through the nightingale’s eye

(7)

so zubanon par bhi khamoshi tuhje manzoor hai

raaz woh kya hai tere sine mein jo mastoor hai

In spite of innumerable tongues you have chosen silence

What is the secret which is concealed in your bosom (heart)?

(8)

meri soorat tu bhi ek berg e riyaz e toor hai

main chaman se door hun, tu bhi chaman se door hai

Like me you are also a leaf from the garden of Tur

Far from the garden I am, far from the garden you are

(9)

matmaen hai tu, preshan misl e bu rehta hun main

zakhmi e shamsheer e zauq justuju rehta hun main

You are content but scattered like fragrance I am

Wounded by the sword of love for search I am

(10)

ye preshani meri saman e jamiat na ho

ye jigar sauzi charagh e khana e hikmat na ho

This perturbation of mine a means for fulfillment could be

This torment a source of my intellectual illumination could be

(11)

natawani hi meri sarmaya e quwwat na ho

rashk e jam e jim mera aaeena e hairat na ho

This very frailty of mine the means of strength could be

This mirror of mine envy of the cup of Jam could be

(12)

ye talash e muttasil shama e jahan afroz hai

tosin e idraak e insan ko kharam aamuz hai

This constant search is a world‐illuminating candle

And teaches to the steed of human intellect its gait