A Translation From Pushto ..

In Pushto by Rahim Khan Majrooh

Translation by Aadil Omer

The events of the last connection

of our relation were so sudden,

so ephemeral that I couldn’t sense it.

I can’t remember what we talked about last

except the words that you uttered,

‘I leave you to the protection of God,

‘You leave me to the protection of God.’

In a state of shock, I couldn’t believe

our parting even when a lot of days lapsed.

‘Nay! It cannot happen!’ I said

‘Our ways can’t be separated!’I thought.

Then the time withdrew its hand

of generosity from that of mine.

Then the fate separated its hand

of companionship form that of mine.

Then the universe of light and color

turned dull and dour.

Then the pines of the florid land

of my thoughts caught fire.

Then, the houris of the paradise

of my dreams turned to freaky vampires

of the streets of lonesomeness.

Then, a peculiar scene formed my backdrop.

As though someone drew the ground

from under my feet; I was hung in the air

like a pi-pal tree, grown within a wall.

From thereon, love,

neither smile visited my lips

nor sleep stayed in my eyes.

True, I’m alive but just like a corpse;

Like the pieces of a widow’s bangles

shattered in pain.


Union Of Souls

Our longing gravitates
as much as the separation
widens and our souls
step out of their shells
to meet in the celestial heights.

Entwined in ecstatic trance
they satiate with the purity of bliss
before a glance at our parted bodies
stimulates their altruism for the grieved.

Our souls re-enter
their momentary abodes and
sprinkle the magic they hold
to soothe our craving bodies
until they themselves lose
their essence.

And the urge to rejuvenate
takes them by the hand
for another embrace.

A Hurting Departure..

132883178_c00a26b0dcIt was fine then; when
your separation octopused
my soul and devoured
it calmly, stealthily.

Now, the departure of
your thoughts is hurting
the very place, which
placed them for eternity.

Do me a favor, if you can!
Tell them not to shout, not
to mock at the hollow
they forsake; tell them
leave it quietly to
a natural crumble,
brick by brick
to the ground!

Photo Courtesy: http://www.flickr.com

Two Random Translations

The Meteorological Department..

Original In Sindhi By : Ishaq Samejo

Translation : Aadil Omer


This time again,

The Meteorological Department

Has announced that

Current will the weather

Of our separation.

The mountains will not receive

Any lightening,

Canals will not flow,

Rivers will be dry,

And our fields will be naked

Like our children.

Thirst will rest upon our lips

And hunger will be based

In our bellies.

Our trees will be at the mercy

Of fiery winds

And the scattered bones

Of our dead animals,

Over sandy boulders,

Will emerge in the newspapers

Preventing the visits

Of foreign tourists.

The bloody vampire of death

Will dance naked in our towns.

Our ancestors, the vagrants

For generation

After generation,

Will carry their children

And move to the fertile lands

To save the lives of their youngers

And

You and me

Woudn’t meet

Till the advent of rainy seasons.

This time again,

The meteorological department

Has announced that

Current will the weather

Of our separation.

The Critics Know Nothing

Original In Urdu By Mubarak Ahmad

Translation By Aadil Omer


If my wife were wise

I wouldn’t be a poet.

Now let’s see it otherwise,

for, there are two angles

to look at anything.

My wife is very much wise

who made me a poet.

If I weren’t a poet,

then all the older folks

and the aged and youth

woudn’t hate Urdu poetry

English wouldn’t be garbaged,

Punjabi wouldn’t be derailed

and the traditional ghazal writers

wouldn’t flee from the ground

showing their backs.

I say, ‘It was bad.’

The youngsters say, ‘It was good.’

The critics say, ‘We don’t know

what happened.’