ज़िंदगी और मौत
लाई हयात क़ज़ा ले चली चले
अपनी ख़ुशी न आये न अपनी ख़ुशी चले
दुनिया ने किसका राह-ए-फ़ना में दिया है साथ
तुम भी चले चलो यूं ही जब तक चली चले
Zindagee aur maut
Laaee hayaat aaye qazaa ley chalee chaley
Apnee khushee na aaye na apnee khushi chaley
Duniya ney kiska rah-e-fanaa mein diya hai saath
Tum bhee chaley chalo yoon hee jab tak chalee chaley
पाक पापी
कब हक़ परस्त ज़ाहिद-ए-जन्नत-परस्त है
हूरों पे मर रहा है ये शहवत परस्त है
Paak paapee
Kab haq parast zaahid-e-jannat-parast hai
Hooron pey mar rahaa hai ye shahvat parast hai
Life and Death
I came into the world, now death stands at my door,
I came not of my pleasure, nor do I go at my leisure.
Who in this world accompanies you on the road to death?
Keep going on your own, till you take your last breath.
The Saintly Sinner
He preaches morals and pines for paradise, but this too is true:
He will give his life for houris, he also loves to screw.
मुल्ला और मैखाना
ज़ौक़ जो मदरसे के बिगड़े हुए हैं मुल्ला
उनको मैख़ाने में ले आओ संवर जाएंगे
Mullah aur maikhaana
Zauq jo madarsey key bigdey huey hain mullah
Unko maikhaaney mein ley aao sanvar jaaengey
मुल्ला और मैखाना
आंख से आंख है लड़ती मुझे दर है दिल का
कहीं ये जाए ना इस जंगो-जदल में मारा
Jung
Aankh sey aankh hai ladtee mujhey dar hai dil ka
Kaheen ye jaaye na is joang-o-jadal mein maaraa
The Mullah and the Tavern
The mullahs ruined by the madrassas, O Zauq,
Bring them to the tavern, they?ll be right again.
War
I fear for the poor heart as eyes lock with eyes,
In this war and battle, he might be the one who dies.
MIRZA ASADULLAH KHAN GHALIB
(1796––1869)
Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib’s Turkish ancestors were soldiers of fortune who served in the armies of the Mughals as well as the Hindu rajas. But Asadullah Khan, a tall, strapping, powerfully built, handsome young man, chose to make his career as a poet. He began composing in Persian but later wrote in Urdu. At the age of thirteen he was married to eleven-year-old Umrao Begum, a distant relative of the Nawab of Loharu. She bore him seven children all of whom died in their infancy as did their adopted son. The elegy the poet composed on his son’s death is included in this selection. Asadullah Khan adopted the pen name ‘Ghalib’ (conqueror) but often used ‘Asad’ (lion) as well. He moved to Delhi and spent most of his life in a haveli in Gali Qasim Jan in Balimaran. Ghalib was frequently invited to the court of Bahadur Shah Zafar.
An iconoclast, a hard drinker and a gambler, Ghalib was jailed at least twice for not paying his debts and gambling. Ghalib was never able to afford the lifestyle he wanted and was forever looking for patrons including the British government to make ends meet.
Ghalib died in Delhi and was buried close to the dargah of Nizamuddin Auliya and the grave of Amir Khusro. His tomb has become a place of pilgrimage for lovers of Urdu poetry, as he is generally acknowledged as the greatest Urdu poet.
पैकर-ए-तस्वीर
नक़्श फ़रियादी है किस की शोख़ी-ए-तहरीर का
काग़ज़ी है पैरहन हर पैकर-ए-तस्वीर का
Paikar-e-tasveer
Naqsh faryaadee hai kis kee shoukhee-e-tehreer ka
Kaaghazee hai pairahan har paikar-e-tasveer ka
शराब
ग़ालिब छुटी शराब पर अब भी कभी-कभी
पीटा हूं रोज़-ए-अब्र-ओ-शब-ए-माहताब में
Sharaab
Ghalib chhutee sharaab par ab bhee kabhee kabhee
Peeta hoon roz-e-abr-o-shab-e-maahtaab mein
साग़रो-मीना
गो हाथ को जुंबिश नहीं आंखों में तो दम है
रहने दो अभी साग़र-ओ-मीना मेरे आगे
Saaghar-o-meena
Go haath ko jumbish naheen aankhon mein to dam hai
Rehney do abhee saaghar-o-meena merey aagey
A Picture
A picture speaks for itself, what learned exposition does it need?
The paper on which it is painted is only its outer garment: it tells its own tale indeed.
On Drinking
Ghalib foreswore wine! But from time to time it’s true
When dark clouds span the skies,
And nights are lit by the moon
He breaks his vow and takes a sip or two.
The Jug and the Cup
Though I can no longer stretch my hands
I still have life’s sparkle in my eyes;
Let the jug of wine and cup remain
Before me where they lie.
इश्क़
इश्क़ से तबीयत ने ज़ीस्त का मज़ा पाया
दर्द की दावा पायी दर्द-ए-ला-दवा पाया
Ishq
Ishq sey tabeeyat ney zeest ka mazaa paaya
Dard kee davaa paayee dard-e-la-davaa paaya
तलाश
चलता हूं थोड़ी दूर हर इक तेज़ रौ के साथ
पहचानता नहीं हूं अभी राहबर को मैं
Talaash
Chaltaa hoon thhoree door har ik tez rau key saath
Pehchaanta naheen hoon abhee raahbar ko main
Love
Love gave me the lust for living—
To ease my pain it gave me something for sure;
It gave me such pain that nothing can cure.
The Search
A short distance I go along with every speedy wayfarer,
I have yet to find the one I will follow as my leader.
चूमना
ग़ुंचा-ए-नाशिगुफ़्ता को दूर से मत दिखा के यूं
बोसे को पूछता हूं मैं मुंह से मुझे बता की यूं
Choomna
Ghooncha-e-nashigufta ko door sey mat dikha key yoon
Bosey ko poochhta hoon main munh sey mujhey bataa ki yoon
बुलालों मुझे
मेहरबां होके बुलालों मुझे चाहो जिस वक़्त
मैं गया वक़्त नहीं हूं की फिर आ भी न सकूं
Bulaalo mujhey
Mehrbaan hokey bulaalo mujhey chaaho jis vaqt
Main gayaa vaqt naheen hoon ki phir aa bhee na sakoon
On a Kiss
Do not pout your lips at me like a half-opened rosebud from afar
All I ask you for is a kiss
Let your lips give me the answer:
‘It is done like this.’
Send for Me
Have mercy and send for me
Any time y
ou so desire;
Time gone is forever gone, it’s true——
I am not time,
I can always return to you.
इख़तैयार किए गए बेटे की मौत पे
लाज़िम था की देखो मेरा रास्ता कोई दिन और
तनहा गये क्यों अब रहो तनहा कोई दिन और
जाते हुये कहते हो क़यामत को मिलेंगे
क्या ख़ूब क़यामत का है गोया कोई दिन और
तुम माह-ए-शब-ए-चार-दहुम थे मेरे घर के
फिर क्यों न रहा घर का वह नक़्शा कोई दिन और
मुझसे तुम्हें नफ़रत सही नय्यर से लड़ाई
बच्चों का भी देखा न तमाशा कोई दिन और
नादां हैं जो कहते हैं की क्यों जीते हो ग़ालिब
क़िस्मत में है मरने की तमन्ना कोई दिन और
Ikhtiyaar kiye gaye betey kee maut pey
Laazim thha ki dekho mera rastaa koi din aur
Tanha gaye kyon ab raho tanha koi din aur
Jaatey huey kehtey ho qayaamat ko milengey
Kya khoob qayaamat ka hai goya koi din aur
Tum mah-e-shab-e-char-dahum thhey merey ghar key
Phir kyon na rahaa ghar ka yey naqshaa koi din aur
Mujhsey tumhein nafrat sahi Nayyar sey ladaee
Bachchon ka bhee dekha na tamaasha koi din aur
Naadaan hain jo kehtey hain ki kyon jeetey ho Ghalib
Qismat mey hai marney kee tamanna koi din aur
On the Death of an Adopted Son
You should have waited for me a few days more.
Why did you leave alone? —now stay alone a few days more.
As you went away, you said, ‘We will meet on Judgement Day.’
Such illusions of Judgement I must live a few days more.
You were ever the full moon of my blighted home,
Why couldn’t it remain lit up a few days more?
You may despise me, You may hate everything that lights up my life;
You wouldn’t even abide the laughter of children a few days more.
They are fools who ask me, ‘Why do you go on living, Ghalib?’
It is my fate to long for death a few day more.
ज़िंदगी का सफ़र
रौ में है रख़्श-ए-उम्र कहां देखिये थमे
नै हाथ बाग पर है न पा है रकाब में
Zindagi ka safar
Rau mein hai rakhsh-e-umr kahaan dekhiye thhamey
Naey haath baag par hai na paa hai rakaab mein
खुदा
न था कुछ तो खुदा था कुछ न होता तो खुदा होता
डुबोया मुझ को होने ने न होता मैं तो क्या होता
Khuda
Na thha kuchh to khuda thha kuchh na hota to khuda hota
Duboya mujh ko honey ney na hota main to kya hota
Life’s Journey
Life travels at a galloping pace, I know not where it will stop;
The reins are not in my hands, nor my feet in the stirrups.
On God
When there was nothing, there was God, had nothing existed there would be God;
My being has been my ruin: tell me, had I not existed, what would be lost?
बुढ़ापे की आह
दिल से तेरी निगाह जिगर तक उतर गई
दोनों को इक अदा में रज़ामन्द कर गई
वह बाड़ा-ए-शबाना की सरमस्तियां कहां
उठिये बस अब की लज़्ज़त-ए-ख़्वाब-ए-सहर गई
देखो तो दिलफ़रेबी-ए-अंदाज़-ए-नक़्श-ए-पा
मौज-ए-ख़िराम-ए-यार भी क्या गुल कतार गई
नज़्ज़ारे ने भी काम किया वां निक़ाब का
मस्ती से हर निगाह तेरे रुख़ पर बिखर गई
फ़रदा-ओ-दी का तिफ़रिक़ा यक बार मिट गया
मारा ज़माने ने असदउल्लाह खां तुम्हें
वह वलवले कहां वह जवानी किधर गई
Burhapey kee aah
Dil sey teree nigaah jigar tak utar gaee
Dono ko ik adaa mein razaamand kar gaee
Voh baada-e-shabaana kee sarmastiyaan kahaan
Utthiye bas ab ki lazzat-e-khwaab-e-sahar gaee
Dekho to dilfarebee-e-andaaz-e-naqsh-e-paa
Mauj-e-khiraam-e-yaar bhee kya gul katar gaee
Nazzaarey ney bhee kaam kiya vaan niqaab ka
Mastee sey har nigah terey rukh par bikhar gaee
Farda-o-dee ka tifriqa yak baar mit gayaa
Kal tum gaye ki hum pey qayaamat guzar gaee
Maara zamaaney ney Asadullah Khan tumhein
Voh valvaley kahaan voh javaanee kidhar gaee
Lament of Old Age
Your gaze travelled from my heart to my core (in such a fashion)
That in one glance it was both my love and my passion.
Where has the headiness of youth’s evening drink gone?
It’s time to get up and go, gone are the sweet dreams of dawn.
This bewitching pattern of footprints—to whom do they belong?
Was it my beloved scattering rose petals as she went along?
My (very) vision blinded me like a veil
As every eye fell upon your face unveiled.
I cannot tell the difference between yesterday and today
Since you left, all are the same, everything falls away.
Asadullah Khan, time has taken its toll and left you for dead
What happened to all the carousels, where’s your youth fled?
ग़ज़ल १
यह न थी हमारी क़िस्मत की विसाल-ए-यार होता
अगर और जीते रहते यही इन्तिज़ार होता
तेरे वादे पर जिये हम जो यह जान झूट जाना
कि खुशी से मर न जाते अगर एतबार होता
कोई मेरे दिल से पूछे तेरे तीर-ए-नीमकश को
यह ख़लिश कहां से होती जो जिगर के पार होता
राग-ए-संग से टपकता वह लहू कि फिर न थमता
जिसे ग़म समझ रहे हो यह अगर शरार होता
कहूं किससे मैं कि क्या है शब-ए-ग़म भरी बाला है
मिझे क्या बुरा था मरना अगर एक बार होता
Ghazal ƒ १
Yeh na thhee hamaree qismat ki visaal-e-yaar hota
Agar aur jeetey rehtey yahee intizaar hota
Terey vaadey par jiye hum jo yeh jaan jhoot jaana
Ki khushee sey mar na jaatey agar aitbaar hota
Koi merey dil sey poochhey terey teer-e-neemkash ko
Yeh khalish kah
aan sey hotee jo jigar key paar hota
Rag-e-sang sey tapakta voh lahoo ki phir na thhamta
Jisey gham samajh rahey ho yeh agar sharaar hota
Kahoon kissey main ki kya hai shab-e-gham buree bala hai
Mujhey kya bura thha marnaa agar ek baar hota
Ghazal 1
To be united with the beloved was not writ in my fate,
Had I lived any longer, it would have been the same long wait.
I lived on your promises, I knew they were not true,
Would not I have died of joy had I believed in you?
Ask my heart about the pain of love and it will tell you
The half-drawn bow’s the assassin, not the arrow that pierces through.
The stone’s veins would burst and nothing would stem blood’s flow,