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Shaam

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen (to Faiz read)

is tarah hai ke har ek peR ko’ii mandir haiko’ii ujRaa huaa, benuur puraanaa mandirDhuunDtaa hai jo Kharaabii ke bahaane kab sechaak har baam, har ek dar kaa dam-e-aaKhir haiaasmaaN ko’ii purohit hai jo har baam talejism par raaKh male, maathe pe sinduur malesar-niguuN baithaa hai chup-chaap na jaane kab seis tarah hai ke pas-e-pardaa ko’ii saahir hai

jis ne aafaaq pe phailaayaa hai yuN seh’r ka daamdaaman-e-vaqt se paivast hai yuN daamna-e-shaamab kabhii shaam bujhegii na andheraa hogaaab kabhii raat Dhalegii na saveraa hogaa

aasmaaN aas liye hai ke ye jaaduu TuuTechup ki zanjiir kaTe, vaqt kaa daaman chhuTede ko’ii shanKh duhayii, ko’ii paayal boleko’ii but jaage, ko’ii saaNvlii ghuuNGhat khole

Translation by Agha Shahid Ali

Evening

The trees are dark ruins of temples,seeking excuses to tremblesince who knows when–their roofs are cracked,their doors lost to ancient winds.

And the sky is a priest,saffron marks on his forehead,ashes smeared on his body.He sits by the temples, worn to a shadow, not looking up.

Some terrible magician, hidden behind curtains,has hypnotized Timeso this evening is a netin which the twilight is caught.Now darkness will never come–and there will never be morning.

The sky waits for this spell to be broken,for history to tear itself from this net,for Silence to break its chainsso that a symphony of conch shellsmay wake up to the statuesand a beautiful, dark goddess,her anklets echoing, may unveil herself.

(from The Rebel’s Silhouette)

[blackmamba]

7 comments May 23, 2008

Tanhaa’i

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen (to Faiz read)

phir ko’ii aayaa, dil-e-zaar! nahiin, ko’ii nahiin;raah-rau hogaa, kahiin aur chalaa jaaegaa.dhal chukii raat, bikharne lagaa taaron kaa ghubaar,larkharaane lage aiwaanon mein khwaabiida charaagh,so ga’ii raasta tak takke har ek rah guzaar;ajnabi khaak ne dhundlaa diye qadmon ke suraagh.

gul karo shamiin, barhaa do mai-o-miinaa-o-ayaagh,apne be khwaab kivaaron ko muqaffal kar lo;ab yahaan ko’ii nahiin, ko’ii nahiin aayega!

Solitude

Someone, finally, is here! No, unhappy heart, no one -just a passerby on his way.The night has surrenderedto clouds of scattered stars.The lamps in the hall waver.Having listened with longing for steps,the roads too are fast asleep.A strange dust has buried every footprint.

Blow out the lamps, break the glasses, eraseall memory of wine. Heart,bolt forever your sleepless doors,tell every dream that knocks to go away.No one, now no one will ever return.

Tr. by Agha Shahid Ali

More Faiz.

[blackmamba]

3 comments May 17, 2008

Paas   Raho

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen (to Faiz read)

tum mere paas rahomere qaatil, mere dildaar, mere paas rahojis gha.Dii raat chaleaasamaano.n kaa lahuu pii kar siyah raat chalemarham-e-mushk liye nashtar-e-almaas chalebain karatii hu_ii, ha.Nsatii hu_ii, gaatii nikaledard kii kaasanii paazeb bajaatii nikalejis gha.Dii siino.n me.n Duubate huye dilaastiino.nme.n nihaa.N haatho.n kii rah takane nikaleaas liyeaur bachcho.n ke bilakhane kii tarah qul-qul-e-maybahr-e-naasudagii machale to manaaye na manejab ko_ii baat banaaye na banejab na ko_ii baat chalejis gha.Dii raat chalejis gha.Dii maatamii, sun-saan, siyah raat chale

paas rahomere qaatil, mere dildaar, mere paas raho

Be Near Me

You who demolish me, you whom I love,be near me. Remain near me when evening,drunk on the blood of skies,becomes night, in the othera sword sheathed in the diamond of stars.

Be near me when night laments or sings,or when it begins to dance,its stell-blue anklets ringing with grief.

Be here when longings, long submergedin the heart’s waters, resurfaceand everyone begins to look:Where is the assasin? In whose sleeveis hidden the redeeming knife?

And when wine, as it is poured, is the sobbingof children whom nothing will console–when nothing holds,when nothing is:at that dark hour when night mourns,be near me, my destroyer, my lover me,be near me.

Agha Shahid Ali’s translation. From The Rebel’s Silhouette

[blackmamba]

3 comments May 13, 2008

Rang pairahan ka, khushboo zulf lehrane kaa   naam

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen

Rang pairahan ka, khushboo zulf lehrane kaa naamMousam-e-gul hai tumhare baam par aane ka naam

Doston us chasm-o-lab ki kuch kaho, jiske bagairGulistaan ki baat rangeen hai, na mehkhane ka naam

Phir nazar mein phool mehke, dil mein phir shamayen jaliPhir tasavvur ne liya us bazm mein jane ka naam

Dilbari thehra zabaan-e-khalk khulwane ka naamAb nahin lete pari-roo zulf bikhrane ka naam

Ab kisi laila ko bhi ikraar-e-mehboobi nahinIn dinon badnaam hai har ek deewane ka naam

Muhatsib ki khair, uncha hai usi ke faiz seRind ka, saaki ka,may ka, khum ka, paimane ka naam.

Hum se kehte hain chaman vale, gareebane chamanTum koi accha sa rakh lo apne veerane ka naam

Faiz unko hai takazaa-e-vafa humse jinheAashna ke naam se pyaara hai begaane ka naam.

English Translation (mine):

Colour is a dress, fragrance is a name for your flowing tresses.Your appearance at the window gives the Spring its name.

Say something about this sight, my friends, without whichneither the garden would have colour, nor the tavern have a name.

Again the eye fills with the scent of flowers, again the heart is lit with a leaping flame;Imagination exults, and hesitating no longer, rejoins this happy company again.

Romance is a trick to set the tongues of the world wagging,now even those with angel faces must keep their tresses tamed.

No beloved will now declare her desire openlyfor where is the lover who is not defamed?

Praise to the naysayers! for by their gracethe drunkard, bartender, wine, cask and shotglass have their fame.

Those with the gardens say to us, “You, out there,why don’t you give your wilderness a pretty name?”

Faiz, they demand faith from us now, whowould rather be outsiders than bear a lover’s name.

Not Faiz’s greatest ghazal, perhaps, but one I’m fond of, if only for those two glorious couplets at the end. I’ve tried to emulate the pattern of end rhymes (though without a refrain), though obviously this has meant taking some luxuries with the text.

[falstaff]

4 comments October 9, 2007

Kuch kahti hai har raah har ek raahguzar   se

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen

Phir lauta hai khurshid-e-jahaantaab safar sePhir noor-e-sahar dast-o-garebaan hai sahar se.

Phir aag bharakne lagi har saaz-e-tarab meinPhir sholay lapakne lage har deeda-e-tar se.

Phir niklaa deewana koi phoonk ke ghar koKuch kahti hai har raah har ek raahguzar se.

Vo rang hai imsaal gulistaan ki fazaa kaOjhal hui deewar-e-kaphas hadd-e-nazar se

Saagar to khanakte hain sharaab aaye na aayeBaadal to garajte hain ghata barse na barse.

Paaposh ki kya fikr hai, dastaar samhaaloPaayab hai jo mouj guzar jayegi sar se.

English Translation (mine):

Again the sun returns, bathing the world in its journey,Again the morning light goes hand in glove with the sky.

Again the fire roars in every merry song,Again the flames leap from every weeping eye.

Again a madman leaves, having set fire to his houseAnd every path says something to every passer by.

That colour is implicated in the garden’s very air,Obscured the prison walls from the limits of the eye.

The glasses will rattle, whether the liquor flows or notThe clouds will thunder, whether it rains or stays dry.

Don’t worry about shoes now, better look to your turbanThis wave that laps at your feet will soon be head high.

It’s been a while since we ran any Faiz so I figured it was time. This isn’t really one of Faiz’s finest ghazals, but it’s one that I personally am rather fond of. It starts off slowly – the first two couplets are nice but hardly spectacular, and then suddenly, out of nowhere, you get ‘phir nikla hai deewana phoonk ke ghar ko’. It’s a stunning line, its explosive impact doubled by the fact that Faiz lulls you into a sense of predictability with his repetition of the ‘phir’ (again) starting, and by the casual way Faiz tosses the image in, as though a madman setting fire to his house were a daily occurence (which, in Faiz’s imagery it is, of course). It’s as though Faiz had tossed a grenade into the poem and then timidly shut the door.

From there on the poem just gets better and better. The fourth couplet is glorious and the fifth ends with one of the cleverest rhymes I’ve ever seen done in a ghazal (and which no translation can ever hope to duplicate), the ‘ar se’ sound flowing so naturally in at the end that I always find myself forced to do a double take just to make sure that he did actually have a rhyme there. This ghazal is so much fun, that by the time you get to that swinging last couplet you can almost feel the exhilaration of it sweeping over you, just like the wave that Faiz ends by warning you about.

[falstaff]

P.S. A note on the translation – I’ve taken a few more liberties with the text than I usually like to do, mostly because I wanted to write the translation as a ghazal (the first line doesn’t really rhyme with the second, but it’s close enough). Frankly, no translation was going to do justice to this poem anyway.

2 comments April 7, 2007

Intisaab

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen

Aaj ke naamAurAaj ke gam ke naamAaj ka gam ke hai zindagi ke bhare gulistan se khafaZard patton ka banZard patton ka ban jo mera des haiDard ki anjuman jo mera des hai

Kilarkon ki aphsurda janon ke naamKirmkhurda dilon aur zabanon ke naamPostmanon ke naamTangevalon ke naamRailbanon ke naamKarkhanon ke bhole jiyalon ke naamBadshaah-e-jahan, Vaali-e-maseeva, Naybullah-e-fil-arz, dehkan ke naamJiske dhoron ko zaalim hanka le gayeJiski beti ko daakoo utha le gayeHaath bhar khet se ek angusht patwar ne kaat li haiDusri maliye ke bahane se sarkar ne kaat li haiJiski pag zor valon ki paon taleDhajjiyan ho gai hai

Un dukhi maaon ke naamRaat mein jinke bacche bilakhte hain aurNeend ki maar khae hue bazooaun se sambhalte nahinDukh batate nahinMinnaton zariyon se bahalte nahin

Un hasinaon ke naamJinki aankhon ke gulChilmanon aur dareechon ki belon pe bekaar khilkhil keMurjha gaye hain

Un byahtaon ke naamJinke badanBe-muhabbat riyakaar sejon pe saj-saj ke ukta gaye hainBevaon ke naamKatriyon aur galiyon, muhallon ke naamJinki napaak khashaak se chand raatonKo aa-aa ke karta hai aksar vazuJinke saayon se karti hai aah-o-bukaaAanchalon ki hinaChuriyon ki khanakKakulon ki mahakAarzoomand seenon ki apne paseene mein jalne ki boo.

Talibilmon ke naamVo jo asahab-e-tabl-o-alamKe daron par kitaab aur kalamKa takazaa liye, hath phaileyePahuchen, magar lautkar ghar na aayeVo masoom jo bholpan meinVahan apne nanhe chragon mein lau ki lagan

Le ke pahuchen, jahanBant rahe the ghatatop, beant raaton ke saaye.

Un aseeron ke naamJinke seenon mein pharda ke shabtab gouharJailkhanon ki shoreeda raaton ki sarsar meinJal jal ke anjum-numa ho gaye hain

Aane vaale dinon ke safiron ke naamVo jo khushboo-e-gul ki tarahApne paigam par khud phida ho gaye hain

My (extremely inept) translation:

Dedication

In the name of this dayAndIn the name of this day’s sorrow:Sorrow that stands, disdaining the blossoming garden of Life,Like a forest of dying leavesA forest of dying leaves that is my countryAn assembly of pain that is my country

In the name of the sad lives of clerks,In the name of the worm-eaten hearts and the worm-eaten tonguesIn the name of the postmenIn the name of the coachmenIn the name of the railway workersIn the name of the workers in the factoriesIn the name of him who is Emperor of the Universe, Lord of All Things,Representative of God on Earth,The farmerWhose livestock has been stolen by tyrants,Whose daughter has been abducted by banditsWho has lost, from his hand’s breadth of land,One finger to the record keeperAnd another to the government as tax,And whose very feet have been trampled to shredsUnder the footsteps of the powerful.

In the name of those sad mothersWhose children cry out in the nightAnd will not be silenced by the defeated arms of sleep,Who will not say what saddens themOr be consoled by tears or entreaties.

In the name of those beautiesThe flowers of whose eyesBlossomed from every curtain and balconyAnd withered away in waiting.

In the name of those wivesWhose unloved bodiesHave grown tired of the treachery of bedsIn the name of the widowsIn the name of neighbourhoodsWhose scattered garbage the moonBlesses every night,And from whose shadows cries outThe fragrance of veilsThe tinkling of banglesThe scent of loosened hairThe smell of passionate bodies burning in their own sweat.

In the name of studentsWho went to the masters of drums and bannersProstrating themselves on doorstepsWith their books and pensPraying, with open arms, to be heard,But never returned.Those innocents, who, in their naiveteTook their tiny lamps,Their candle flames of hope, to whereThe shadows of endless nights were being given out.

In the name of those prisonersIn whose breasts the shining gem of the futureBurns, polished by the noise of the jailer’s night,To a star like radiance.

In the name of those harbingers of the days to comeWho, like the flower with its scent,Have become enamoured of their own message.

There are some poems that have an anthem-like, declamatory quality. Poems that demand not so much to be read aloud as to be shouted into microphones, fed line by hungry line to some roaring mob that raises its fists high in support after every stanza. Poems that seem addressed, not to a single person, but to the People. Ginsberg’s Howl is like that. Gil Scott-Heron’s The Revolution will not be televised is like that.

And then there’s Faiz’s Intisaab. This is a marching, singing paean of a poem, at once heroic and sorrowful, at once incantatory and delicate. There are some unforgettable lines here (Zard patton

ka ban jo mera des hai / Dard ki anjuman jo mera des hai) and some beautiful images (Jinki napaak khashaak se chaand raaton / Ko aa-aa kar karta hai aksar vazu) but the overall effect is of being swept up in the urgency of a historical moment, in the tidal wave of an entire people and their determination to stand firm against suffering, stand firm against oppression. This is a poem whose every line screams Revolution.

Politics and poetry do not, in general, go well together. Which is not to say that there aren’t good, even great, political poems; only that the rawness and stridency that makes for good politics doesn’t always fit comfortably with more poetic aims. There are exceptions, of course, but poems with a ‘message’ often end up sacrificing poetic merit for political momentum, so that they remain memorable not so much for their poetry per se but for the protest they contain. This is emphatically not true of Intisaab. This is a poem that is as political as you can get, that fairly overflows with attitude, and yet is also a sophisticated and stunningly visual lyrical work.

The poet I’m always reminded of, reading this, is Whitman. Think of the long enumerations from Song of Myself. Think of all the other songs – The Song of Occupations, the Song of Joys, The Song of the Open Road, Salute Au Monde!, I sing the Body Electric. There is the same rhythm of repetition, the same grandness of vision, the same deceptive simplicity. Faiz, like Whitman, writes from a well-spring of humanism, from a desire to celebrate the common people. Faiz, like Whitman, understands in his deeply democratic heart that it is here that true power lies, in the suffering of ordinary men and women, in the uncomplaining courage with which they bear whatever History thrusts upon them. Faiz, like Whitman, is a poet of his people. That is why he matters. That is why he will survive.

Notes:

As should be obvious, my translation doesn’t do anywhere near justice to the poem. Frankly, there are things I just cannot translate. In the stanza about students, for instance, Faiz says “kitab aur kalam / ka takaaza liye, haath phailaye / pahuchen” which I translate as “Prostrating themselves on doorsteps / with books and pens/ praying, with open arms, to be heard”. That doesn’t begin to do justice to the metaphor. Sanderson Beck writes:

“In takaza a man may restrain an equal or inferior from leaving his house or eating or compel him to sit in the sun until he makes some accommodation. If the debtor is a superior, the creditor may supplicate and lay on his doorstep, appealing to his honor and shame.”

That’s just one example.

5 comments June 8, 2006

Tum kya gaye ke rooth gaye din bahar   ke

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen

Dono jahaan teri muhabbat main haar keVoh jaa rahaa hai koi shab-e-gam guzaar ke

Veeran hai maykada, khum-o-saagar udaas haiTum kyaa gaye ke rooth gaye din bahaar ke

Ek phursat-e-gunah milee, voh bhi chaar dinDekhe hain humne housle parvardigaar ke

Duniya ne teri yaad se begaana kar diyaaTujshe bhi dil-fareb hai, gam rozgaar ke

Bhoole se muskara to diye the voh aaj “faiz”Mat poocho valvale dil-e-nakardaa kaar ke

Translation (by Agha Shahid Ali):

He bet both this life and the nextand gambled all night for your lovehe first lost earth then eternityNow he departs from his night of griefdefeat visible in his eyes

Oh what a desolationthe taverns deserted each glass disconsolateLove when you lefteven springtime forsook meyou left and that season disowned this world

You made it so brief our time on earthits exquisite sins this sensation Oh Almightyof forgetting youWe know how vulnerable you arewe know you are a coward God

This rapture of simple routines life’s common struggleshave surpassed my memory of your loveIt’s proved more enticing just to surviveeven more than youmy love

Today she forgot herself her usual waysher face broke as if by chanceinto a smileDon’t ask what happened to the defeated heart

Oh Faiz how it broke once againinto hopeless longing.

Translation (mine):

Craving your love, he gambled awayboth this world and the next.Look – he is leaving now -having spent the night in grief.

And the taverns are deserted,and the wine glasses are upset;hurt by your departureeven the Spring has turned away.

Forgetting you was a reprieve,but it did not last.Now we have seen how fareven God can be trusted.

The world seduced us,made us exiles from your memory;day by day, the business of livingproved more deceptive than your love.

And then, today, she smiled,forgetting herself,and the heart, so long unused,began to beat with a new urgency.

One of my favourite Faiz ghazals. Such a wonderful and passionate description of the utter abandonment of unrequited love. Such an overwhelming sense of despair, of defeat, of resignation. And then, just when the world seems ruined beyond measure, that one casual smile of a line that revives everything, sets the pulse racing again.

Tennyson writes: “The world were not so bitter / But a smile could make it sweet” (Maud, I. VI). Faiz’s ghazal shows us how desperate a redemption this is. How desperately the heart must long to hope, must long to believe, that it will stake all its happiness on something as fickle as a smile. “Dono jahan teri mohabbat mein har ke” indeed – the game of love is played on precisely so fragile a wager.

4 comments May 21, 2006

Baazi hai ab ke jaan se badhkar lagi   hui

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen (to Falstaff read)

Sunne ko bheed hai sar-e-mahshar lagi huiTohmat tumhare ishq ki hum par lagi hui

Rindon ke dam se aatish-e-may ke bagair bhiHai maykade mein aag barabar lagi hui

Aabad karke shahar-e-khamoshan harek sooKis khoj mein hai teg-e-sitamgar lagi hui

Jeete the yon to pahle bhi hum jaan pe khelkarBaazi hai ab ke jaan se badhkar lagi hui

"Lao to katlnama mera, mein bhi dekh loonKis kis hi muhar hai sar-e-mahzar lagi hui

Aakhir ko aaj apne lahoo par hui tamaamBaazi miyan-e-kaatil-o-khanjar lagi hui.

That bet has now been placed on meTranslation by Agha Shahid Ali

The Day of Judgement is here.A restless crowd has gathered all around the field.This is the accusation: that I have loved you.

No wine is left in the taverns of this earth.But those who swear by rapture,this is their vigil:

they've made sure,simply with a witnessing thirst,that intoxication is not put out today.

In whose search is the swordsman now?His blade red, he's just come from the City of Silence,its people exiled or finished to the last.

The suspense that lasts between killers and weaponsas they gamble: who will die and whose turn is next?That bet has now been placed on me.

So bring the order for my execution.I must see with whose seals the margins are stamped,recognize the signatures on the scrolls.

More than my life is at stakeTranslation by Falstaff

The day of judgement has arrived.A crowd has gathered to hear them proclaim:I am accused of having loved you.

There is no wine left now;But the thirst of the drunkardsHas kept the taverns burning.

Who is the tyrant's sword searching for?Now that it has filled every graveyard,Populated every silence?

I have lived this way before, it is true,Playing games with death;But this time more than my life is at stake.

So bring the order for my executionLet me see who accuses meWho signs his name to my death.

In the end,This is all my life turns out to be:A gamble between a killer and his swordWith my blood as the prize.

More Faiz on pō'ĭ-trē ,

[1] Raat Yun Dil Mein Teri[2] Paon se Lahoo Ko Dho Dalo[3] Aur Bhi Gham Hain Zamaane Mein[4] Jinhe Zurm-e-ishq Pe Naaz Tha

[blackmamba]

6 comments April 7, 2006

Jinhe zurm-e-ishq pe naaz   tha

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen (to Falstaff read)

Tere gum ko jaan ki taalash thi, tere jaan nisaar chale gayeTeri rah mein karte the sar talab, sar-e-rehguzaar chale gaye

Teri kaj-adai se haar ke shab-e-intezar chali gayiMere zabt-e-haal se rooth kar mere gumgusar chale gaye

Na saval-e-vasl na arz-a-gum, na hikaytein, na shikayteinTere ahad mein dil-e-zaar ke sabhi ikhtiyar chale gaye.

Yeh humi the jinke libaas par sar-e-ru siyahi likhi gayiYahi daag the jo saja ke hum sar-e-bazm-e-yaar chale gaye.

Na raha junoon-e-rukh-e-vafa, ye rasan, yeh dar, karoge kyaJinhei zurm-e-ishq pe naaz tha, voh gunehgaar chale gaye.

Faiz broke away from the idea of the Beloved, the archangel of urdu poetry. Yes, he puts her on the pedestal too, as tradition seems to demand. Only to build another pedestal (/tradition), equally exquisite, for all things just as precious.

“aur bhii dukh hai.n zamaane me.n mohabbat ke sivaaraahate.n aur bhii hai.n vasl kii raahat ke sivaamujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng”

“There are other sorrows in this world,comforts other than love.Don’t ask me, my love, for that love again.”

Posting poems by Faiz without the translation by Shahid Ali has always sparked interesting discussions on translation( [1], [2], unlike [3]). So here, we have two translations. One by Shahid Ali and the other by Falstaff. Compare, contrast, critique, appreciate…

Those once proud to be accused of love(tr. by Agha Shahid Ali)

Your sorrow in search of someonewilling to spill his bloodbut they who once lined the roads

ready to give up this lifeat a moment’s noticefor you

have leftno longer to be found

Belovedthe night waited with me for youat dawn it admitted defeat and left

my consolers also departedhurt to find my eyeswithout tears

let down that I held back my grief

Nothing’s left nowno possibility of the night of loveand no way to show even a glimpse of pain

there’s no room for complaintsno margins allowed for suggestions

Tyrantit’s your erathe restless heart’s lost its every right

It was meit was my shirtthat was printed

with blood on the streetsdarkened there with inks of accusation

I declared these stains a new fashionand went to mingle with the guestsat my lover’s home

Nowhere anymorethat abandon of passion

no one wear’s fidelity’s raw fabrics

Hangmanwhat will you do with that rope?who’s asked you to build the scaffold?

those once proud to be accused of lovethey all have vanished.

And the other,

Those who were proud to be accused of love(tr. by Falstaff)

Your sorrow came, searching for life,But those who would have died for you are gone,Those who would have bowed their heads when you passedHave all gone their own ways.

And the night is gone too,Annoyed with you for keeping it waiting;And those who came to console me have left,Angry with me because I would not cry.

There is no question of love now,I cannot complain, cannot say what grieves me,I have no suggestions to makeIn the tyranny of your loveMy heart has lost all its rights.

I was the oneWhose shirt turned red with the blood from the streets;These are the stains that I wore proudlyAll the way to my beloved’s house.

But passion is out of style now,And this rope, these gallows, are no longer needed;Those who were proud to be accused of loveHave all vanished like criminals.

[blackmamba]

Add comment March 16, 2006

Paon se lahoo ko dho   dalo

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Listen (to Falstaff read)

Hum kya karte kis reh chalteHar raah mein kaante bikhre theUn rishton ke jo choot gayeUn sadiyon ke yaranon keyJo ik-ik karke toot gaye.

Jis raah chale jist simt gayeYun paon lahoo-luhan hueSab dekhne vaale kahte theYe kaisi reet rachai haiYe mehndi kyon lagvai haiVo kehte the, kyon kahat-e-vaphaKa nahak charcha karte hoPaon se lahoo ko dho dalo

Ye raatein jab at jayengiSow raste in se phootengeTum dil ko sambholo jismein abhiSow tarah ke nashtar tootenge.

And an excellent translation by Falstaff.

Wash the blood from your feet

Where should we go and what should we doWhen every road is scatteredWith the thorns of our fallen loves?When the friendships of centuriesHave broken, one by one?

Whatever path we take, whatever direction we chooseOur feet come away bathed in blood.

And the onlookers say:What is this ritual you have devised?Why have you tattooed yourself with these wounds?Who are you to questionThe barrenness of faith?

Wash the blood from your feet.

When the night has passedA hundred new roads will blossom.You must steady your heart,For it has to break many, many times.