(Bang-e-Dra-044) (داغ) Dagh

(Bang-e-Dra-044) Dagh

Dagh

Azmat-e-Ghalib Hai Ek Muddat Se Pewand-e-Zameen
Mehdi-e-Majrooh Hai Sheher-e-Khamoshan Ka Makeen

The fame of Ghalib has long been buried in the ground.
Mahdi Majruh dwells in the city of the silent.

Tor Dali Mout Ne Ghurbat Mein Meenaye Ameer
Chashme-e-Mehfil Mein Hai Ab Tak Kaif-e-Sehbaye Ameer

In exile, Death broke the win‐jar of Amir,
But in the eyes of the assembly still resides the intoxication of the wine of Amir.

Aaj Lekin Hum-Nawa! Sara Chaman Matam Mein Hai
Shama-e-Roshan Bujh Gyi, Bazm-e-Sukhan Matam Mein Hai

But today, my fellow singers, the whole garden is in mourning.
The bright candle has been extinguished. The company of poetry is lamenting.

Bulbul-e-Dilli Ne Bandha Iss Chaman Mein Ashiyan
Hum Nawa Hain Sub Anadil Bagh-e-Hasti Ke Jahan

The nightingale of Delhi made its nest in that garden,
Where its nightingale fellow‐singers are in the garden of existence.

Chal Basa Dagh! Aah! Mayyat Iss Ki Zaib-e-Dosh Hai
Akhri Shayar Jahan Abad Ka Khamosh Hai

Dagh is dead. Alas! His corpse brings adornment to our shoulders.
The last poet of Shajahanabad is silent.

Ab Kahan Woh Bankpan, Woh Soukhi-e-Tarz-e-Byaban
Aag Thi Kafoor-e-Peeri Mein Jawani Ki Nihan

Where is that elegant rakishness now? The coquettish style?
The fire of youth was ever hidden in the camphor of his old age.

Thi Zuban-e-Dagh Par Jo Aarzu Har Dil Mein Hai
Laila-e-Maani Wahan Be Parda, Yaan Mehmil Mein Hai

The desire that Dagh’s words expressed are in everyone’s heart.
The Layla of meaning with him was unveiled; with us she is hidden in the drapes of the camel‐litter.

Ab Saba Se Kon Puche Ga Sukoot-e-Gul Ka Raaz
Kon Samjhe Ga Chaman Mein Nala-e-Bulbul Ka Raaz

Now, who will ask of the morning breeze the secret of the peace of the rose?
Who will understand the mystery of the nightingale’s lament in the garden?

Thi Haqiqat Se Na Ghaflat Fikar Ki Parwaz Mein
Aankh Taeer Ki Nasheman Par Rahi Parwaz Mein

He never neglected reality when his thoughts took flight.
The bird kept its eye on the nest as it flew.

Aur Dikhlayen Ge Mazmoon Ki Humain Bareekian
Apne Fikr-e-Nukta Aara Ki Falak Pemaeeyan

There will be others to show us the delicacies of a subject—
The way that the finer points of their thought soar to the sky!

Talakhi-e-Doran Ke Naqhe Khainch Kar Rulwayen Ge
Ya Takhiyul Ki Nayi Dunya Humain Dikhlayen Ge

There will be those who paint pictures of the bitterness of time to make us weep
or show us a new world engendered by their imagination.

Iss Chaman Mein Hon Ge Paida Bulbul-e-Sheeraz Bhi
Saikron Sahir Bhi Hon Ge, Sahib-e-Ijaz Bhi

In this garden more nightingales of Shiraz will be born.
There will come forth myriad magicians, those who possess the art of spells.

Uthain Ge Azar Hazaron Shair Ke Butkhane Se
Mai Pilayen Gen Aye Saqi Naye Pemane Se

From the temples of verse will arise thousands like Azar
And new wine‐pourers will give us wine to drink from new measures.

Likhi Jaen Gi Kitab-e-Dil Ki Tafseerain Bohat
Hon Gi Ae Khawab-e-Jawani! Teri Taabeerain Bohat

Many commentaries will be written on the book of the heart.
There will be, oh dream of youth, many an interpretation of you.

Hu Bahu Khainche Ga Lekin Ishq Ki Tasveer Kon?
Uth Gya Nawak Fagan, Mare Ga Dil Par Teer Kon?

But who will draw exactly the picture of love?
The archer has been taken away, who will fire the arrow at the heart?

Ashak Ke Dane Zameen-e-Shair Mein Bota Hun Main
Tu Bhi Ro Ae Khak-e-Dilli! Dagh Ko Rota Hun Main

I sow the seeds of tears in the soil of poetry.
You also weep, oh earth of Delhi! I weep for Dagh.

Ae Jahan Abad, Ae Sarmaya-e-Bazm-e-Sukhan!
Ho Gya Phir Aaj Pamal-e-Khazan Tera Chaman

Oh Jahanabad! Oh wealth of the assembly of verse!
Your garden has once more today been trampled by autumn.

Woh Gul-e-Rangeen Tera Rukhsat Misal-e-Bu Huwa
Ah! Khali Dagh Se Kashana-e-Urdu Huwa

That colourful flower of yours has departed like perfume.
Ah! The dwelling‐place of Urdu is bereft of Dagh.

Thi Na Shaid Kuch Kashish Aesi Watan Ki Khak Mein
Woh Mah-e-Kamil Huwa Pinhan Dakkan Ki Khak Mein

Perhaps there was no great attraction in the dust of his native‐land.
That full‐moon was hidden in the soil of the Deccan.

Uth Gye Saqi Jo The, Mai-Khana Khali Reh Gya
Yadgar-e-Bazm-e-Dehli Aik Hali Reh Gya

The wine‐pourers who were there have been taken from us and the tavern is empty.
As a monument to the assembly of Delhi only Hali remains.

Arzoo Ko Khoon Rulati Hai Baidad-e-Ajal
Maarta Hai Teer Tareeki Mein Sayyad-e-Ajal

The injustice of death makes desire weep tears of blood.
The hunter of death fires his arrow in darkness.

Khul Nahin Sakti Shakayat Ke Liye Lekin Zuban
Hai Khazan Ka Rang Bhi Wajah-e-Qayam-e-Gulistan

But my tongue can utter no complaint.
The colour of the autumn is also the cause of the garden’s permanence.

Aik Hi Qanoon-e-Alamgeer Ke Hain Sub Asar
Bu-e-Gul Ka Bagh Se, Gulcheen Ka Dunya Se Safar

These are all the effects of the one universal law:
The perfume leaves the garden; the rose-plucker bids farewell to the world.