It's been days since I read or heard any poetry. Writing has been any way out of the question for a while now. In fact, I think, I have not even quoted a random verse during all my conversations. And not even had a "conversation" in a long while. How long was that? Perhaps a few months, perhaps a lifetime... who knows!
There is a lot of nothing happening, so to say but well... before I digress, here is what finally triggered some thoughts a day or two back. A friend tried translating a verse of Meer Taqi Meer. I counter-translated some more verses and shared those with him. Well, imagine if this is the most happening and fun thing I did in a while, how was the boring part? I know you know that. Anyway, I digress. Don't guess, just read. Who knows if you will see the poet me ever again or ...!!!
हस्ती अपनी हबाब की सी है
ये नुमाइश सराब की सी है
This existence - a bubble or a bait
All like a Mirage to demonstrate
चश्म-ए-दिल खोल के इस आलम पर,
याँ की औक़ात ख़्वाब की सी है
Open the inner eyes, for this world
Nothing but a dream desperate
नाज़ुकी उस के लब की क्या कहिए,
हर एक पंखुड़ी गुलाब की सी है
What to say of her rosey lips,
like the fragile petals, so delicate.
नुक़्ता-ए-ख़ाल से तिरा अबरू
बैत इक इंतिख़ाब की-सी है
That beauty mark on your eyebrow
like a rhyme, a rhythm too great
मैं जो बोला कहा के ये आवाज़,
उसी ख़ानाख़राब की सी है
As I bespoke, she says
it sounds like that desolate.
