ai dil-e-betaab, theher

 

tiragi hai ki umandti hi chali jaati hai

shab ki rag-rag se lahu phoot raha ho jaise

chal rahi hai kuchh is andaaz se nabz-e-hasti

dono aalam ka nasha toot raha ho jaise.. 

 

tiragi – darkness; umandti – swelling

 

raat ka garm lahu aur bhi beh jane do

yehi tareeki to hai ghaza-e-rukhsaar-e-seher

subh hone hi ko hai

ai dil-e-betaab, theher.. 

 

tariki – darkness; ghaza-e-rukhsaar-seher – powder on the face of dawn

 

abhi zanjeer chhanakti hai paas-e-parda-e-saaz

mutlaq-ul-hukm hai shiraaza-e-asbaab abhi

saaghar-e-naab mein aansu bhi dhalak jaate hain

laghzish-e-pa mein hai paabandi-e-aadaab abhi

 

pas-e-parda-saaz – behind the veil of music; mutlaq-ul-hukm – of absolute power; shiraza-e-asbaab – the web of cause and effect / the web of fate; saaghar – goblet; naab – wine; laghzish-e-pa – unsteady feet; aadaab – custom

 

apne deewaanon ko deewaana to ban lene do

apne maikhaanon ko maikhaana to ban lene do

jald ye satwat-e-asbaab bhi uth jaaegi

ye giraanbaari-e-aadaab bhi uth jaaegi

khwah zanjir chhanakti hi, chhanakti hi rahe

ai dil-e-betaab, theher.. 

 

maikhaana – tavern; satwat – violence; giraanbaari – oppression

 

– faiz ahmed faiz

“Oh restless heart, wait,” says Faiz to those whose reality is sorrow and oppression. The darkness only seems to grow, in a night that feels as if it were bleeding to its death. An existence whose pulse still beats. But the intoxication of simply being alive – in this world or the next – fades away.

Let this night bleed on, my friend. This darkness – what else is it, but an adornment for dawn to come? The darker the night, the sweeter the dawn. It is almost here. Oh restless heart, wait.

Faiz speaks of the spiritual oppression of man. Even when his language refers to poverty and slavery, it is the spiritual impact of such conditions that is indicated. Here is where Faiz’s Marxism goes beyond the materialism of that ideology, embracing the spiritual heights of the Sufism that he loved much. Behind the seemingly happy music of the world, there lies the clanking of chains. Life is bound by fate, by conditions never chosen by you. Your tears fall into the wine in your goblet. Your ecstatic feet are bound by convention.  But oh restless heart, wait.

Wait, till your lovers become real lovers. Wait, till your tavern becomes a real tavern. Your suffering is a purification, a maturation for real love, for real ecstasy. Your tears are not wasted, in this world or the next. Soon, the web of fate shall dissolve. And the knot of convention shall loosen. Even if, at the moment, the chains clank on. Oh restless heart, wait..

young faiz

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~ by tdcatss on August 28, 2013.

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