wrath of water

Rau mein hai raksh-e-umar kahaan dekhiye thhamey

Nai haath baag par hai na pa hai rakaab mein

(Age travels at galloping pace; who knows where it will stop

We do not have the reins in our hands nor our feet in the stirrups).”

Asadullah Khan Ghalib - translated by Khushwant Singh

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kis say gila karaiN, yeh kiya maajra hay

yeh roshinouN ka shehr, shehr e khamoshaan hay

sukoot buland minaroun ki sada say toot ta hay

aur zinda lashain, bay awaaz

bay maqsad, sarkaiN naapti haiN

oofak kay par matlaashi aankhaiN

fasurdagi aur naummeedi maiN gharq

siskioun aur shikwon kay bojh talay

ilzamoun ki aah o fugaan maiN

kisi madfun junnat ki talash may haiN

complain? bemoan? sigh?

the city of lights has turned taciturn

silence cascades from under the minarets

the walking dead, doleful and diffident

wander aimlessly

gazing at distant horizon

through prisms of regret and hopelessness

anchored by unreleased sighs, queries

and inaudible allegations

for a disappeared shangri-la

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kub fitrat, ya qudrat nay suni hay

zinda laashouN ki faryad bataiyay

when has nature answered

the call of the living dead?

door say ik basti maiN

abhi kuch zinda log haiN shayayd

oonki sarsarati siskiyoun maiN

ab bhi kuch gila hay, kuch faryad si hay

hawa kay dosh jo idhar sunai daiti hay

aur aisa mehsoos hota hay

kay natwaaN ummeed ki devi maiN

abhi zindagi ki kasak baqi hay

in some far off town

some people are still alive

and their barely discernible sighs

reverberate with yearnings

carried over here by gusts of wind

their leaden hope

still flickers with signs of life

--
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