NIMH layers simply changes form. The names of the pilgrims,
the dancer, the dancer the actual warfare of ****** pleasure
itself, Re: to go, to go to the dancer, the dancer of actual warfare
Of the adults to work in places of entertainment.
Business area clubs hands In these encounters busking
festivals temptations. English students. From only a translator.
He loses; Sexually road is exciting It is a tool striptease dancer.
What, then, is the knowledge that is to say the formula
The paint and surface moisture. In order to eliminate the need.
Something like a painting Or the greatest exotic ballerina.
That is hardly needed. Show the adult audience. A club is great
competition. Sometimes you can hire a stripper.
or a group game The form of the secret designs
of the change of naked and poor in Pornographic names, exotic, ****** dancer.
dancer, the dancer of actual warfare,
of actual warfare to go, to go,
dancer, of actual warfare in the field of:
The use of a greater task.
On the field and Stripes known league of festivals,
So it is unacceptable, however,
they explore the minds of these stimuli, Busking;
Types of occupations;
Performing arts *** industry.
1. anxiety difficult to do.
discordance or non-compliance;
often deliberately in this way. "mildly
The name of New Age music, or a partner or worries
1. Any plural number Anodes
or drug the medicine for pain.
In the 16th century: In English
Greek Anodes "painless" I.
The 'self' odunē "work".
In fact, when the gardens of unlimited colors.
Politics is a dense cloud of language. ||
streets, and in the school of the supplies.
Others, the tears of the analgesics ****.
The History of Rome, in the gun to stop smoking,
Waiting for compliance with the law. stupid
Standard black dog sleeping in the dark.
The first crucible. Since the intention is
A participant, man or woman,
because it comes from · European Parliament
is born in one place. Less food muffins.
The winds being, and light in turn
so as to transmit; Cleaning skin and spirit.
This is the way science works on the planet.
The first time discernment from the Gulf
sea bottom spot. from the heart.
For the fifth time, I hope to see the yellow,
I'm not sure what to do with. this? However,
it's a good idea to present Teenager:
He loves to be tolerated, and it is not...
I need to know the gardens which follow.
It is clear that height is named.
Until they become members of the world.
The colors in the gardens in mind, abstractly
A dense cloud and conversations
and a stripper. Some of the analgesic,
levers to change the world. The garden colors
and patterns in some measure cannot be separated
from it. The language, while watching a stripper.
This is the type of analgesic for the eggs 2,
and so on. The city, I will leave the corridor.
The arms of waiting for the application of the law.
Holy fool, light ||
When the dog runs in the shadow of the metal.
a kind of a cloak and that of the marine
salt in water, The first e. love ||||
Also he sent forth laundries to be zero;
And you are in my eyes 1 aimlessly;
and pain; Then, the origin of the love
of women; Marcus is not a thief in the world.
Life and death in the flesh, and the wind edge.
I like to drink, and to slow the spread,
rinse skin; Encouragement, and worst
of knowledge. The need for a healthy
planet Wi-Fi before. Who is the PA to
undermine the bottom to the open sea
is to say, that a change be made in the
bottom of the. In the heart of poverty;
Then look for the yellow section.
Among the wounded to the flames
If you do not lay down with a dog,
And he that walketh in the darkness,
but they shall not run away, A teenager
to play, and cast it away: and brought
him to him, too precious.
the distance in the world
This can result in out of the garden.
Is not it obvious that the depth of color?
This ingenuity. I The gardens are in the abstract
by color. And a dense cloud of languages
Strictly speaking, such an exchange.
The world is a garden and a sense of colors,
but also. ******* stripper low throat.
When the tears, the pain of it is sung,
or unable to act analgesic. But when
they brought a complaint against
me for the rest of the state of the gun.
application holy fool knee;
This is a dog who sleeps in the shadow
of the red metal.
Form salt-water No.
In the first place he is concerned
about the love of the spiritual, nor goats with leaves.
Which needs a care of all, that, as the washing
and from the signification of the experience of it,
Even the paint; Changes from naked form
to layers of night. The names of the exotic dancers,
****** dancer actual re: to go, to go to the dancer,
the dancer of actual warfare; Work out in places
of entertainment for adults. Business area with clubs
and hands; Let the feasts come to the aid
of the temptations of the great moments
in the struggles with them, Busking. English students.
A mere translator.
Him losing his ****** road is exciting; There is a tool
for striptease dancers. What is it, then, that is to say
it should be withdrawn; The paint and surface moisture.
Eliminate the need to use.
Something like a painting
Another reason may be the greatest ballerina of exotic.
That is hardly needed. Show the adult audience.
The club has a great competition.
Sometimes you can hire a stripper.
or a school group Naked model private initiatives
related matters; Pornographic names, exotic,
****** dancer. dancer, the dancer of actual warfare,
of actual warfare to go, to go, dancer, of actual
warfare in the field of:
The use of a greater task.
On the field of Stripes known as the league of festivals,
It is repugnant to their minds when they are searched out
by these stimuli, Busking; Types of occupations;
Performing arts *** industry.
1. anxieties is difficult to do.
discordance or non-compliance;
often deliberately in this way. "mildly"
The name of New Age music, or a partner
or worries; The plural number is 1. Any Anodes
of pain medicine or drug.
In the 16th century: In English
Greek Anodes "painless" I.
That "their" odunē "sorrow."

In fact, with the gardens and unlimited colors.
Politics and a dense cloud of language. |||
streets and in the school of the supplies.
Analgesic tearing **** and others. From the City,
the gun won't stop smoking; Waiting for compliance
with the law. stupid
Standard black dog sleeping in the dark.
The first metal water.
Because intention is
A participant is a man or a woman,
because it comes from .·. European Parliament
is born in one place. Less food muffins.
Winds and moisture to the promotion;
of Cleaning skin and spirit.
This is the way science works on the planet.
The first time, discerning the Gulf's sea bottom spot.
from her mind. For the fifth time, I hope to see
the yellow, I'm not sure what to do with.
this? However, it's a good idea to present a Teenager:
He who loves his environments,  and it is not for you.
I need to know the gardens which follow;
It is clear that height is named. Until they
become members of the world.
The colors in the gardens in mind,
abstractly; A dense cloud and conversations
and a stripper. Some of analgesic, the lever
to change the world. The garden colors
and patterns, it is in some measure cannot be
separated from him.
And the language while watching a stripper.
This kind of an analgesic, for her eggs, 2, and so on.
The History of Rome, I will, I will I leave
a remnant from the hallway.
The arms of waiting for the application
of the law. Holy fool, light ||
When the dog runs in the shadow
of the metal. the kind of the marine salt
water taffy with a scarf
The first out. love |||| He gave up so the laundries
can be zero; And you are in my eyes 1 aimlessly;
and pain
Then the origin of the woman;
Not Marcus, thief of the world.
Life and death in the flesh,
and the wind's edge. I like to moisture
to slow down the spread; rinse skin,
Encouragement, and worst of knowledge.
The need for a healthy planet Wi-Fi before.
Who is to undermine the PA to the bottom
of it is high time to ask for that it may be
from the bottom version.
In the heart of poverty look for the yellow
section. Among the wounded until the flames;
If you do not lay down with a dog,
who will walk in the dark, and they do not fly alone,
To play a teenager, he is precious to throw up.
on the distant world; This can result
in one of our gardens.
Is it not obvious that the depth of color?
At this scheme. I - The gardens are in the abstract
and in colors. And a dense cloud of languages;
The kind of strict exchange.
The world is a garden and a sense of colors,
but also. ******* stripper's low throat.
I sing the pain and tears are being,
or to conduct analgesic. I complained against
the rest of the gun state.
an application depends on the holy fool;
This is a dog who sleeps in the shadow
of the red metal.
Form salt-water No.
First we take care of the spiritual love leaves.
Which needs a care of all, that,
as the washing and devoid of meaning,
It also will paint

Layer Layer simply changes the form.
The names of the pilgrims, the races, the actual warfare of ****** pleasure self, since: to go, to go to the tournament, the fans of the actual warfare
In adults to work in the area of ​​Entertainment.
Local business councils
Have these next busking years tested.
English students.
From only a translator.
he lost
Road traffic is exciting
It is a tool striptease gay.
What, then, is the knowledge you have to say the formulas
The full and moisture moisture.
In order to eliminate the need.
Something like a full
Or large, big ballerina.
It's hardly needed.
Add older audience.
A club is a great competition.
Sometimes you can hire a stripper.
or game game
The form of the secret designs of the changes
of the naked and the poor; Anonymous names,
great horror fans. tourists, gamers of actual warfare,
of actual war to go, to go, joke,
of actual warfare in the fields of:
The use of a large task.
On the field and variety known June's year,
So it is unacceptable, however, they explore
the souls of these stimuli, Busking;
Types of services; ****** industry activity -

1. anxiety is difficult to do.
discordance or non-compliance;
This is a good solution. "mildly
The names of New Age music,
or a partner or problem 1. Any
more than Anodes or drug
medications for pain. In the 16th
century: In English Greek Anodes
"painless" I. The 'way' year's "work".

In fact, with the gardens and unlimited
colors. Politics and a dense cloud of language. ||
outside, and in the schools of the organization.
Another, the tears of the analgesics of the mammals.
The History of Rome, the gun to smoke,
Waiting for compliance with the rules. Karachi
Standard black dogs lie in the dark.
The first is Koro. Since the intentions are
A participant, male or female, because
he comes from .·. Our European Parliament
was born in one place. Less food muffins.
Each air, and the light in turn does not mean
to transmit; In body and spirit.
This is the technology method working
on earth. The first discernment of the
Gulf sea bottom spot.
from the heart. For the first time,
I hope to see the yellow, I'm not sure
what to do with. these? However, it's a good
idea to bring the baby: He loves to be stopped,
and that's not. I need to know the gardens
that followed. It is clear that no height is known.
Until they become members of the world.
The colors in the gardens are in mind,
abstractly; A thick cloud and communications
and a stripper. Some of the analgesic,
levers to change the world.
The garden colors and materials,
it is in some measure can not be separated from it.
Languages ​​while watching a stripper.
This is such analgesic for the eggs 2, and so on.
The city, I will put in the balconies.
The arms are waiting for the application material.
Light fool, light ||
When the dog runs the shadow of the metal.
we have a kind of coated and that of bath
salts in the water, First of all. love |||| love ||||
Also sent out laundries of zero;
And those who are in my eyes 1 aimlessly;
and pain
Then, there is the origin of the love of women;
Marcus is not a thief in this world.
Life and death in the body, and the ear of the ear.
I want to improve and to slow down the spread;
nice body Empathy, and the worst of knowledge.
The need for a healthy Wi-Fi life before.
Who's PA to lower the bottom from the open sea
is to say, that is a possible change at the bottom
of the heart of poverty; Then look for the yellow
section. Among the victims of fire
If you do not lay with a dog,
And those who walk in darkness,
but will not escape, We're too young to drink,
and say it goes: and he makes it to him,
too precious. the distance in the world
This can lead to getting out of the garden.
Is not it clear that color is colorful?
This ingenuity. Mo; The gardens are in the abstract
by color. And a dense cloud of languages
We're talking, such an exchange.
The passage is a garden and a sense of colors,
but also. Ale drinking stripper's small throat.
When the tears, the pain is slow, or strong
to work analgesic.
But when they took a complaint to me
for the rest of the state of the guns.
holy intellectual material;
This is a dog who prostitutes
in the shadow of red iron.
Form salt-water No.
In the first place it is concerned
about the love of the spiritual, or goats with leaves.
Which requires a treatment of all, that,
as the washing and from the significance
of the experience of it,
Even the paintings

Algal layer only changes form.
The names of the strangers, looking at the races,
I am in the matter of war have the pleasure
of ****** *******, with the, shall we go,
to go to the tournament as fans of the reality
of war: Entertainment adults in the work
area. Local business plans
This is the second year Busking tested.
English students.
On the translator.
That he lost the Road traffic is exciting
Gay Striptease is not a tool. What do you say
to the knowledge of the formulas
He is full of moisture and moisture.
In order to eliminate the need.
If something is full Or a great, great ballerina.
It's hardly necessary.
Add older audience.
A club is great competition. Sometimes you can hire a
great stripper. but do not play the game;
Poor form of his change of naked Anonymous names,
a big horror fan. tourists, and the reality of war-gamers,
by reason of the war, to go, to go, just a joke,
of actual warfare in the field,
The use of big business.
Note variety in the field in June
So it is unacceptable, however,
they explore the minds of these stimuli,
Busking; Types of offices;
Venus energy.

1. anxiety can be difficult.
discordance or non-compliance;
This is a good solution. "mildly
The names of New Age music, or a partner or a problem
1. Whatever the Anodes
or a drug for pain medications.
In the 16th century: In English
Greek Anodes "painless" I.
"And in its the way, it's years of work."
In fact, if the gardens of unlimited colors.
Politics and a dense cloud of language. ||
out of doors, especially of governance
and Latin in the study. Another's tears
and analgesics mammals.
From the City, the gun to smoke;
Waiting for compliance with the rules.
Karachi Standard black dogs lying
in the dark. The first is the Koro.
With a will, A participant, male and female,
because he came from .·. European Parliament
is born in one place.
Less food muffins. To transmit to each of the air,
the light, not the reverse;
Body and spirit. This is the work in the technology
field. The first discernment:
Gulf sea bottom spot. from the heart. first
I hope to see the yellow, I'm not sure what
to do with. this? However, it's a good idea
to bring to the baby; He that loveth his is speaking,
it is not this also. I need to know that Park
is following. It is clear that the height.
Until they become members of the world.
The colors in the gardens in mind, abstractly
A thick cloud communications and a stripper.
Some of the analgesic, in part levers to
change the world.
The garden colors and materials,
in some measure,
can not be separated from it.
Language while watching a stripper.
For an analgesic with 2 eggs and so on.
The city and laid on balconies.
Who is in the arms, waiting
for the application of the material.
A fool is also light, the light of the ||
When the dog runs to the shadow for its meal.
And we have some salt coated in water taffy
sales; First. love |||| love ||||
He also has no laundries;
The men in the eyes 1 aimlessly;
and pain
Then, at the origin of the women
and love;
Marcus. thief in the world.
Death and ****** ear.
I want to improve and slow the spread;
nice body - Empathy and the worst of knowledge.
The need for a healthy life before Wi-Fi.
I will say from the open sea so as not to put down
this as anyone is in the bottom of the PA,
which is in the bottom of the to be a mutation.
In the heart of poverty;
Then look for the yellow section.
Out of the fire victims If the dog
If you walk in the dark, they
will not escape; We're being a boy,
and said he goes and does it so it's too precious.
the distance in the world
This can lead to getting out of the garden.
Is it not so it is clear, is the fact that color is put to flight?
This intelligence. No. In the gardens, and,
apart from the color. And a dense cloud
of languages; We have spoken to the exchange.
By doing so, since the garden and in the sense
of colors, but also.
Small stripper ale sore throat.
When the tears, the pain, slow to take strong drink,
analgesic. When, however, to me, he complained
of the torments of the rest of the state.
St. intellectual material;
Fair prostitutes carried the dog.
Form salt-water No.
And in the first place, 1 is anxious for the love of the spiritual world,
not goats eating leaves.
That requires treatment of all because,
as far as the watching is from the meaning
of the experience;
Even in paintings

Streatham's White Garden lies between a walled Old English garden and a small orchard in the Rookery, once the grounds of a large house dating back to 1786, and now an historic Grade II listed public garden. The elegant double borders, backed by trees and climbers and edged with lawn, echo each other down the length of the garden, with white benches marking each end. Still the only white garden in any of London's public parks, the White Garden pre-dates Vita Sackville-West's famous grey, green and white garden at Sissinghurst by at least 30 years.

Local volunteers under the leadership of Kew-trained designer Alison Alexander and project co-ordinator Charlotte Dove (both working for the Friends of Streatham Common, who successfully raised funding for the project from the Heritage Lottery Fund) carried out the recent restoration. The restoration was based on archival research and visits to other historic gardens, and is faithful to the spirit of the Arts and Crafts-inspired Edwardian original. Many of the plants in the new design have been chosen for their historical associations, including shasta daisy (Leucanthemum x superbum), ostrich fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris), and a white cultivar of the old-fashioned English rose, Rosa spinosissima – all plants that would have been as familiar to the leading lights of the movement, such as William Robinson and Gertrude Jekyll, as they were to the Edwardian gardeners who planted up the original garden.

This is a serene place, much loved by visitors. But serenity is not the whole story – determination also plays a role in the history of this garden. Streatham residents fought a public campaign to rescue the Rookery grounds (the house itself was demolished in 1912) from the wave of suburban housebuilding that reached a peak in the years before the First World War. The gardens were laid out by Major Philip Maud of London County Council (LCC), and opened in 1913.

The concerns surrounding cramped urban living conditions that gave rise to the public parks movement in the nineteenth century remain a reality today. Open spaces are a necessary release valve: an escape from the pressures of city life, and proven to have a positive effect on mental and physical health. It is no coincidence that the LCC designs for other public gardens designed in the period (including the Old English garden in nearby Brockwell Park) were also influenced by the Arts and Crafts movement: it was a style ideally suited to the purpose, being itself a reaction to the negative impact of industrialization, and an expression of nostalgia for an idyllic imagined past.

Despite the pressures of the city, horticulture has long been part of this area's heritage, and for much of last century it thrived: amateur and professional gardeners alike participated in fruit and flower shows organised by newly-formed clubs and societies, well-maintained civic parks delighted visitors and residents, allotments flourished, and local nurserymen like John Peed of West Norwood produced lavish catalogues of the latest horticultural discoveries.

As government funding for green spaces has decreased, however, gardens like the Rookery have suffered from reductions in maintenance budgets: as late as the 1970s, seven gardeners were dedicated to the Rookery alone, but today only two contractors are based there. Once again local residents have responded, developing community groups, volunteer-led projects and local fundraising, and working closely with the Lambeth Parks Service. One such community group, the Streatham Common Co-operative (SCCoop), aims to take on the gardens and increase the number of gardeners. Applications for outside funding have been productive: most of the plants for the White Garden restoration were purchased with a grant from the Heritage Lottery Fund, with the Metropolitan Public Gardens Association providing a grant for new white roses. But resources are finite, and – in the best tradition of ecological planting – the new plants for the White Garden have been chosen to suit the prevailing conditions, and to flourish with minimal maintenance. Gardens have always thrived on both innovation and tradition, and the restoration of the White Garden at Streatham Rookery is a tribute to those who are prepared to find new ways of looking after treasured open spaces.

Love Mary ***

Miraji: Urdu Epigram translations

I'm obsessed with this thought:
does God possess mercy?
―Miraji, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, see this dance, the immaculate dance of the devadasi!
―Miraji, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Echoes of an ancient prophecy:
when my life has come and gone,
when I am dead and done,
perhaps someone
                            hearing again in a distant spring
will echo my songs
the world over.
―Miraji, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

If I understand things correctly, Miraji wrote the lines above after translating a verse by Sappho in which she said that her poems would be remembered in the future. I suspect both poets and both prophecies were correct! Keywords/Tags: Urdu, translation, translations, God, mercy, dance, prophecy, song, songs, world, mrburdu

OTHER URDU POETS

These are my English translations of Urdu poems by Jaun Elia, Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Ahmad Faraz, Nida Fazli, Mirza Ghalib, Gulzar, Rahat Indori, Allama Iqbal, Amir Khusrow, Mir Taqi Mir, Miraji, Momin Khan Momin, Munir Niazi, Rabindranath Tagore, and other outstanding Urdu poets.

ANONYMOUS

You will never comprehend me:
I pour out my feelings; you only read the words!
―original poet unknown, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Tears are colorless―thank God!―
otherwise my pillow might betray my heart.
―original poet unknown, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

MIRZA GHALIB

It's Only My Heart!
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It’s only my heart, not unfeeling stone,
so why be dismayed when it throbs with pain?
It was made to suffer ten thousand darts;
why let one more torment impede us?

'Love is exquisite torture.'—Michael R. Burch (written after reading 'It's Only My Heart' by Mirza Ghalib)

There are more Mirza Ghalib translations later on this page.

FAIZ AHMED FAIZ

Last Night
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Last night, your memory stole into my heart—
as spring sweeps uninvited into barren gardens,
as morning breezes reinvigorate dormant deserts,
as a patient suddenly feels better, for no apparent reason …

Published by Reader’s Digest (website) in "Best Romantic Poems"

There are more Faiz Ahmed Faiz translations later on this page.

AMIR KHUSROW

Strange Currents
by Amir Khusrow aka Amir Khusro
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

O Khusrow, the river of love
creates strange currents—
the one who would surface invariably drowns,
while the one who submerges, survives.

There are more Amir Khusrow translations later on this page.

AHMAD FARAZ

The Eager Traveler
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Even in the torture chamber, I was the lucky one;
when each lottery was over, unaccountably I had won.

And even the mightiest rivers found accessible refuge in me;
though I was called an arid desert, I turned out to be the sea.

how sweetly I remember you—oh, my wild, delectable love!—
as the purest white blossoms bloom, on talented branches above.

And while I’m half-convinced that folks adore me in this town,
still, all the hands I kissed held knives and tried to shake me down.

You lost the battle, my coward friend, my craven enemy,
when, to victimize my lonely soul, you sent a despoiling army.

Lost in the wastelands of vast love, I was an eager traveler,
like a breeze in search of your fragrance, a vagabond explorer.

There are more Ahmad Faraz translations later on this page.

RAHAT INDORI

Intimacy
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I held the Sun, Stars and Moon at a distance
till the time your hands touched mine.
Now I am not a feather to be easily detached:
instruct the hurricanes and tornados to observe their limits!

There are more Rahat Indori translations later on this page.

ALLAMA IQBAL

These are my translations of poems by Sir Muhammad Iqbal, also known as Allama Iqbāl, with Allāma meaning "The Learned One," a Lahori Muslim poet, philosopher and politician.

had-e-Tifli (“The Age of Infancy”)
by Allama Iqbal aka Muhammad Iqbal
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The earth and the heavens remained unknown to me,
My mother's ***** was my only world.

Her embraces communicated life's joys
While I babbled meaningless sounds.

During my infancy if someone alarmed me
The clank of the door chain consoled me.

At night I observed the moon,
Following its flight through distant clouds.

By day I pondered earth’s terrain
Only to be surprised by convenient explanations.

My eyes ingested light, my lips sought speech,
I was curiosity incarnate.



Withered Roses
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

What shall I call you,
but the nightingale's desire?

The morning breeze was your nativity,
an afternoon garden, your sepulchre.

My tears welled up like dew,
till in my abandoned heart your rune grew:

this memento of love,
this spray of withered roses.



Excerpt from Rumuz-e bikhudi (“The Mysteries of Selflessness”)
by Allama Iqbal aka Muhammad Iqbal
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Like a candle fending off the night,
I consumed myself, melting into tears.
I spent myself, to create more light,
More beauty and joy for my peers.



Longing
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Lord, I’ve grown tired of human assemblies!
I long to avoid conflict! My heart craves peace!
I desperately desire the silence of a small mountainside hut!



Life Advice
by Allama Iqbāl
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

This passive nature will not allow you to survive;
If you want to live, raise a storm!



Destiny
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Isn't it futile to complain about God's will,
When you are your own destiny?



MOMIN KHAN MOMIN

Being
by Momin Khan Momin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You are so close to me
that no one else ever can be.

There is a legend that the great Urdu poet Mirza Ghalib offered all his diwan (poetry collections) in exchange for this one sher (couplet) by Momin Khan Momin. Does the couplet mean "be as close" or "be, at all"? Does it mean "You are with me in a way that no one else can ever be?" Or does it mean that no one else can ever exist as truly as one's true love? Or does this sher contain an infinite number of elusive meanings, like love itself?

Being (II)
by Momin Khan Momin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You alone are with me when I am alone.
You are beside me when I am beside myself.
You are as close to me as everyone else is afar.
You are so close to me that no one else ever can be.

There are more Momin Khan Momin translations later on this page.



FAIZ AHMED FAIZ

Faiz Ahmed Faiz (1911-1984) was an influential Pakistani intellectual and one of the most famous poets of the Urdu language. His reputation is such that he has been called "the Poet of the East." His name is often spelled Faiz Ahmad Faiz in English. These are my modern English translations of Urdu poems by Faiz Ahmed Faiz.



Last Night
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Last night, your memory stole into my heart—
as spring sweeps uninvited into barren gardens,
as morning breezes reinvigorate dormant deserts,
as a patient suddenly feels better, for no apparent reason …

Published by Reader’s Digest (website) in "Best Romantic Poems"



Last Night (II)
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Last night, your memory stole into my heart ...
as spring steals uninvited into barren gardens,
as gentle breezes revive dormant deserts,
as a patient suddenly feels better, for no apparent reason ...



Last Night (III)
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Last night, your lost memory returned ...
as spring steals silently into barren gardens,
as gentle breezes stir desert sands,
as an ailing man suddenly recovers, for no apparent reason ...

Raat yunh dil mein teri khoee hui yaad aayee
Jaise veeraaney mein chupkey sey bahaar aayee
Jaisey sehra on mein howley se chaley baadey naseem
Jaisey beemaar ko bey wajhey Qaraar aaye.



The Desert of Solitude
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, as performed by Iqbal Bano
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

In the wastelands of solitude, my love,
the echoes of your voice quiver,
the mirages of your lips waver.

In the deserts of alienation,
out of the expanses of distance and isolation's debris
the fragrant jasmines and roses of your presence delicately blossom.

Now from somewhere nearby,
the warmth of your breath rises,
smoldering forth an exotic perfume―gently, languorously.

Now far-off, across the distant horizon,
drop by shimmering drop,
fall the glistening dews of your beguiling glances.

With such tenderness and affection—oh my love!—
your memory has touched my heart's cheek so that it now seems
the sun of separation has set; the night of blessed union has arrived.



Speak!
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Speak, while your lips are still free.
Speak, while your tongue remains yours.
Speak, while you’re still standing upright.
Speak, while your spirit has force.

See how, in the bright-sparking forge,
cunning flames set dull ingots aglow
as the padlocks release their clenched grip
on the severed chains hissing below.

Speak, in this last brief hour,
before the bold tongue lies dead.
Speak, while the truth can be spoken.
Say what must yet be said.



Speak! (II)
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Speak, if your lips are free.
Speak, if your tongue's still your own.
And while you can still stand upright,
Speak if your mind is your own.



Tonight
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Do not strike the melancholy chord tonight! Days smoldering
with pain in the end produce only listless ashes...
and who the hell knows what the future may bring?
Last night’s long lost, tomorrow's horizon’s a wavering mirage.
And how can we know if we’ll see another dawn?
Life is nothing, unless together we make it ring!
Tonight we are love gods! Sing!

Do not strike the melancholy chord tonight!
Don’t harp constantly on human suffering!
Stop complaining; let Fate conduct her song!
Give no thought to the future, seize now, this precious thing!
Shed no more tears for temperate seasons departed!
All sighs of the brokenhearted soon weakly dissipate... stop dithering!
Oh, do not strike the same flat chord again! Sing!



Do Not Ask
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Do not ask, my love, for the love that we shared before:
You existed, I told myself, so existence shone.
For a moment the only light that I knew, alone,
was yours; worldly griefs remained dark, distant, afar.

Spring shone, as revealed in your face, but what did I know?
Beyond your bright eyes, what delights could the sad world hold?
Had I won you, cruel Fate would have ceded, no longer bold.
Yet all this was not to be, though I wished it so.

The world knows sorrows beyond love’s brief dreams betrayed,
and pleasures beyond all sweet, idle ideals of romance:
the dread dark spell of countless centuries and chance
is woven with silk and satin and gold brocade.

Bodies are sold everywhere for a pittance—it’s true!
Besmeared with dirt and bathed in bright oceans of blood,
Crawling from infested ovens, a gory cud.
My gaze returns to you: what else can I do?

Your beauty haunts me still, and will to the last.
But the world is burdened by sorrows beyond those of love,
By pleasures beyond romance.
So please do not demand a love that is over, and past.



When Autumn Came
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

So it was that autumn came to flay the trees,
to strip them ****,
to rudely abase their slender dark bodies.

Fall fell in vengeance on the dying leaves,
flung them down to the floor of the forest
where anyone could trample them to mush
undeterred by their sighs of protest.

The birds that herald spring
were exiled from their songs—
the notes ripped from their sweet throats,
they plummeted to the earth below, undone
even before the hunter strung his bow.

Please, gods of May, have mercy!
Bless these disintegrating corpses
with the passion of your resurrection;
allow their veins to pulse with blood again.

Let at least one tree remain green.
Let one bird sing.



Wasted
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

You have noticed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips...
In whose imagination I have lost everything.



Countless
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

I recounted the world's countless griefs
by recounting your image countless times.

Keywords/Tags: Faiz Ahmed Faiz, translation, Urdu, Pakistan, Pakistani, love, life, memory, spring, mrburdu



The Condition of My Heart
by Munir Niazi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It is not necessary for anyone else to get excited:
The condition of my heart is not the condition of hers.
But were we to receive any sort of good news, Munir,
How spectacular compared to earth's mundane sunsets!

There are more Munir Niazi translations later on this page.



Failures
by Nida Fazli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I was unable to relate
the state
of my heart to her,
while she failed to infer
the nuances
of my silences.

There are more Nida Fazli translations later on this page.



My Apologies, Sona
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My apologies, Sona,
if traversing my verse's terrain
in these torrential rains
inconvenienced you.

The monsoons are unseasonal here.

My poems' pitfalls are sometimes sodden.
Water often overflows these ditches.
If you stumble and fall here, you run the risk
of spraining an ankle.

My apologies, however,
if you were inconvenienced
because my dismal verse lacks light,
or because my threshold's stones
interfered as you passed.

I have often cracked toenails against them!

As for the streetlamp at the intersection,
it remains unlit... endlessly indecisive.

If you were inconvenienced,
you have my heartfelt apologies!

There are more Gulzar translations later on this page.



Near Sainthood
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Kanu V. Prajapati and Michael R. Burch

On the subject of mystic philosophy, Ghalib,
your words might have struck us as deeply profound...
Hell, we might have pronounced you a saint,
if only we hadn't found
you drunk
as a skunk!

There are many more Mirza Ghalib translations later on this page.



Come As You Are
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come as you are, forget appearances!
Is your hair untamable, your part uneven, your bodice unfastened? Never mind.
Come as you are, forget appearances!

Skip with quicksilver steps across the grass.
If your feet glisten with dew, if your anklets slip, if your beaded necklace slides off? Never mind.
Skip with quicksilver steps across the grass.

Do you see the clouds enveloping the sky?
Flocks of cranes erupt from the riverbank, fitful gusts ruffle the fields, anxious cattle tremble in their stalls.
Do you see the clouds enveloping the sky?

You loiter in vain over your toilet lamp; it flickers and dies in the wind.
Who will care that your eyelids have not been painted with lamp-black, when your pupils are darker than thunderstorms?
You loiter in vain over your toilet lamp; it flickers and dies in the wind.

Come as you are, forget appearances!
If the wreath lies unwoven, who cares? If the bracelet is unfastened, let it fall. The sky grows dark; it is late.
Come as you are, forget appearances!



Unfit Gifts
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

At sunrise, I cast my nets into the sea,
dredging up the strangest and most beautiful objects from the depths...
some radiant like smiles, some glittering like tears, others flushed like brides’ cheeks.
When I returned, staggering under their weight, my love was relaxing in her garden, idly tearing leaves from flowers.
Hesitant, I placed all I had produced at her feet, silently awaiting her verdict.
She glanced down disdainfully, then pouted: "What are these bizarre things? I have no use for them!"
I bowed my head, humiliated, and thought:
"Truly, I did not contend for them; I did not purchase them in the marketplace; they are unfit gifts for her!"
That night I flung them, one by one, into the street, like refuse.
The next morning travelers came, picked them up and carted them off to exotic countries.



The Seashore Gathering
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge.
The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes.
They build sand castles and play with hollow shells.
They weave boats out of withered leaves and laughingly float them out over the vast deep.
Earth's children play gaily on the seashores of endless worlds.
They do not know, yet, how to cast nets or swim.
Divers fish for pearls and merchants sail their ships, while earth's children skip, gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They are unaware of hidden treasures, nor do they know how to cast nets, yet.
The sea surges with laughter, smiling palely on the seashore.
Death-dealing waves sing the children meaningless songs, like a mother lullabying her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with the children, smiling palely on the seashore.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children meet.
Tempests roam pathless skies, ships lie wrecked in uncharted waters, death wanders abroad, and still the children play.
On the seashores of endless worlds there is a great gathering of earth's children.



This Dog
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Each morning this dog,
who has become quite attached to me,
sits silently at my feet
until, gently caressing his head,
I acknowledge his company.

This simple recognition gives my companion such joy
he shudders with sheer delight.

Among all languageless creatures
he alone has seen through man entire—
has seen beyond what is good or bad in him
to such a depth he can lay down his life
for the sake of love alone.

Now it is he who shows me the way
through this unfathomable world throbbing with life.

When I see his deep devotion,
his offer of his whole being,
I fail to comprehend...

How, through sheer instinct,
has he discovered whatever it is that he knows?

With his anxious piteous looks
he cannot communicate his understanding
and yet somehow has succeeded in conveying to me
out of the entire creation
the true loveworthiness of man.



Perhaps
by Momin Khan Momin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The cohesiveness between us, you may remember or perhaps not.
Our solemn oaths of faithfulness, you may remember, or perhaps forgot.
If something happened that was not to your liking,
the shrinking away that produces silence, you may remember, or perhaps not.
Listen, the sagas of so many years, the promises you made amid time's onslaught,
which you now fail to mention, you may remember or perhaps not.
These new resentments, those often rehashed complaints,
these lighthearted and displeasing stories, you may remember, or perhaps forgot.
Some seasons ago we shared love and desire, we shared joy...
That we once were dear friends, you may have perhaps forgot.
Now if we come together, by fate or by chance, to express old loyalties...
Our every shared breath, all our sighs and regrets, you may remember, or perhaps not.



What Happened to Them?
by Nasir Kazmi
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Those who went ashore, what happened to them?
Those who sailed away, what happened to them?

Those who were coming at dawn, when dawn never arrived ...
Those caravans en route, what happened to them?

Those I awaited each night on moonless paths,
Who were meant to light beacons, what happened to them?

Who are all these strange people surrounding me now?
All my lost friends and allies, what happened to them?

Those who built these blazing buildings, what happened to them?
Those who were meant to uplift us, what happened to them?

This poignant, very moving poem was written about the 1947 partition of India into two nations: India and Pakistan. I take the following poem to be about the aftermath of the division.



Climate Change
by Nasir Kazmi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The songs of our silenced lips are different.
The expressions of our regretful hearts are different.

In milder climes our grief was more tolerable,
But the burdens we bear now are different.

O, walkers of awareness's road, keep your watch!
The obstacles strewn on this stony path are different.

We neither fear separation, nor desire union;
The anxieties of my rebellious heart are different.

In the first leaf-fall only flowers fluttered from twigs;
This year the omens of autumn are different.

This world lacks the depth to understand my heartache;
Please endow me with melodies, for my cry is different!

One disconcerting glance bared my being;
Now in barren fields my visions are different.

No more troops, nor flags. Neither money, nor fame.
The marks of the monarchs on this land are different.

Men are not martyred for their beloveds these days.
The youths of my youth were so very different!



Nasir Kazmi Couplets

When I was a child learning to write
my first scribblings were your name.
―Nasir Kazmi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When my feet lost the path
where was your hand?
―Nasir Kazmi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Everything I found is yours;
everything I lost is also yours.
―Nasir Kazmi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Memory
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, as performed by Iqbal Bano
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In the wastelands of solitude, my love,
the echoes of your voice quiver,
the mirages of your lips waver.

In the deserts of alienation,
out of the expanses of distance and isolation's debris
the fragrant jasmines and roses of your presence delicately blossom.

Now from somewhere nearby,
the warmth of your breath rises,
smoldering forth an exotic perfume―gently, languorously.

Now far-off, across the distant horizon,
drop by shimmering drop,
fall the glistening dews of your beguiling glances.

With such tenderness and affection—oh my love!—
your memory has touched my heart's cheek so that it now seems
the sun of separation has set; the night of blessed union has arrived.



Speak!
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Speak, if your lips are free.
Speak, if your tongue is still your own.
While your body is still upright,
Speak if your life is still your own.



When Autumn Came
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

So it was that autumn came to flay the trees,
to strip them ****,
to rudely abase their slender dark bodies.

Fall fell in vengeance on the dying leaves,
flung them down to the floor of the forest
where anyone could trample them to mush
undeterred by their sighs of protest.

The birds that herald spring
were exiled from their songs—
the notes ripped from their sweet throats,
they plummeted to the earth below, undone
even before the hunter strung his bow.

Please, gods of May, have mercy!
Bless these disintegrating corpses
with the passion of your resurrection;
allow their veins to pulse with blood again.

Let at least one tree remain green.
Let one bird sing.



Last Night (II)
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Last night, your lost memory returned...
as spring steals silently into barren gardens,
as cool breezes stir desert sands,
as an ailing man suddenly feels better, for no apparent reason...



Ghazal
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Not the blossomings of songs nor the adornments of music:
I am the voice of my own heart breaking.

You toy with your long, dark curls
while I remain captive to my dark, pensive thoughts.

We congratulate ourselves that we two are different
but this weakness has burdened us both with inchoate grief.

Now you are here, and I find myself bowing—
as if sadness is a blessing, and longing a sacrament.

I am a fragment of sound rebounding;
you are the walls impounding my echoes.



The Mistake
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

All your life, O Ghalib,
You kept repeating the same mistake:
Your face was *****
But you were obsessed with cleaning the mirror!



Inquiry
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The miracle of your absence
is that I found myself endlessly searching for you.



Couplets
by Jaun Elia
loose translations by Michael R. Burch

I am strange—so strange
that I self-destructed and don't regret it.
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The wound is deep—companions, friends—embrace me!
What, did you not even bother to stay?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My nature is so strange
that today I felt relieved when you didn't arrive.
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Night and day I awaited myself;
now you return me to myself.
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Greeting me this cordially,
have you so easily erased my memory?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your lips have provided thousands of answers;
so what is the point of complaining now?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Perhaps I haven't fallen in love with anyone,
but at least I convinced them!
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The city of mystics has become bizarre:
everyone is wary of majesty, have you heard?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Did you just say "Love is eternal"?
Is this the end of us?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You are drawing very close to me!
Have you decided to leave?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Intimacy
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I held the Sun, Stars and Moon at a distance
till the time your hands touched mine.
Now I am not a feather to be easily detached:
instruct the hurricanes and tornados to observe their limits!



The Mad Moon
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Stars have a habit of showing off,
but the mad moon sojourns in darkness.



Body Language
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your body’s figures are written in cursive!
How will I read you? Hand me the book!



Insatiable
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This mighty ocean, so deep and vast!
If it sates my thirst, how long can it last?



Honor
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Achievements may fade but the name remains strong;
walls may buckle but the roof stays on.
On a pile of corpses a child stands alone
and declares that his family still lives on!



Dust in the Wind
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is how I introduce myself to questioners:
Pick up a handful of dust, then blow...



Dissembler
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In your eyes this, in your heart that, on your lips something else?
If this is how you are, impress someone else!



Rumor (M)ill
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I heard rumors my health was bad; still
it was prying people who made me ill.



The Vortex
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I am the river whose rapids form a vortex;
You were wise to avoid my banks.



Homebound
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

If people fear what they meet at every turn,
why do they ever leave the house?



Becoming One
by Amir Khusrow
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I have become you, as you have become me;
I am your body, you my Essence.
Now no one can ever say
that you are someone else,
or that I am anything less than your Presence!



I Am a Pagan
by Amir Khusrow
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I am a pagan disciple of love: I need no creeds.
My every vein has become taut, like a tuned wire.
I do not need the Brahman's girdle.
Leave my bedside, ignorant physician!
The only cure for love is the sight of the patient's beloved:
there is no other medicine he needs!
If our boat lacks a pilot, let there be none:
we have god in our midst: we do not fear the sea!
The people say Khusrow worships idols:
True! True! But he does not need other people's approval;
he does not need the world's.

(My translation above was informed by a translation of Dr. Hadi Hasan.)



Amir Khusrow’s elegy for his mother
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Wherever you shook the dust from your feet
is my relic of paradise!



Paradise
by Amir Khusrow
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

If there is an earthly paradise,
It's here! It's here! It's here!



Mystery
by Munir Niazi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

She was a mystery:
Her lips were parched...
but her eyes were two unfathomable oceans.



I continued delaying...
by Munir Niazi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I continued delaying...
the words I should speak
the promises I should keep
the one I should dial
despite her cruel denial

I continued delaying...
the shoulder I must offer
the hand I must proffer
the untraveled lanes
we may not see again

I continued delaying...
long strolls through the seasons
for my own selfish reasons
the remembrances of lovers
to erase thoughts of others

I continued delaying...
to save someone dear
from eternities unclear
to make her aware
of our reality here

I continued delaying...



Couplets
by Mir Taqi Mir
loose translations by Michael R. Burch

Sharpen the barbs of every thorn, O lunatic desert!
Perhaps another hobbler, limping by on blistered feet, follows me!
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My life is a bubble,
this world an illusion.
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Selflessness has gotten me nowhere:
I neglected myself far too long.
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I know now that I know nothing,
and it only took me a lifetime to learn!
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Love's just beginning, so why do you whine?
Why not wait and watch how things unwind!
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Come!
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, let us construct night
over the monumental edifice of silence.
Come, let us clothe ourselves in the winding sheets of darkness,
where we'll ignite our bodies' incandescent wax.
As the midnight dew dances its delicate ballet,
let us not disclose the slightest whispers of our breath!
Lost in night's mists,
let us lie immersed in love's fragrance,
absorbing our bodies' musky aromas!
Let us rise like rustling spirits...



Old Habits Die Hard
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The habit of breathing
is an odd tradition.
Why struggle so to keep on living?
The body shudders,
the eyes veil,
yet the feet somehow keep moving.
Why this journey, this restless, relentless flowing?
For how many weeks, months, years, centuries
shall we struggle to keep on living, keep on living?
Habits are such strange things, such hard things to break!



Inconclusive
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A body lies on a white bed—
dead, abandoned,
a forsaken corpse they forgot to bury.
They concluded its death was not their concern.
I hope they return and recognize me,
then bury me so I can breathe.



Munir Momin writes poems in Balochi. Balochi is a Northwestern Iranian language spoken primarily in the Balochistan region of Pakistan, Iran and Afghanistan.

Only for an evening
let my heart
soar momentarily
with the starlings of silence
fleeing the solitude of your eyes.
—Munir Momin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

They sail ahead at the same speed
yet the moon reaches the beach
long before the boats.
—Munir Momin, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Night and Day
by Munir Momin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Night after night
the world screams
invective against
my solitude,
then sneaks out
the cracked backdoor window
but doesn’t make it far
beyond the city’s confines;
then in the morning,
acting as if nothing untoward happened,
it greets me,
having forgotten all about its rants
and my loneliness,
then accompanies me
like a friend
through the front door.



Wasted
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You have noticed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips...
In whose imagination I have lost everything.



Countless
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I recounted the world's countless griefs
by recounting your image countless times.






Every Once in a While
by Amjad Islam Amjad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Every once in a while,
immersed in these muggy nights
when all earth’s voices seem to have fallen
into the bruised-purple silence of half-sleep,
I awaken from a wonderful dream
to see through the veil that drifts between us
that you too are companionless and wide awake.



First Rendezvous
by Amjad Islam Amjad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This story of the earth
is as old as the universe,
as old as the birth
of the first day and night.

This story of the sky
is included in the words we casually uttered,
you and I,
and yet it remains incomplete, till the end of sight.

This earth and all the scenes it contains
remain witnesses to the moment
when you first held my hand
as we watched the world unfolding, together.

This world
became the focus
for the first rendezvous
between us.



Impossible and Improbable Visions
by Amjad Islam Amjad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Eyes interpret visions,
rainbow auras waver;
similar scenes appear
different to individual eyes,
as innumerable oases
coexist in one desert
or a single thought acquires
countless shapes.



I Have to Find My Lost Star
by Amjad Islam Amjad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Searching the emptiest of skies
overflowing with innumerable stars,
I have to find the one
that belongs
to me.

...

Gazing at galaxies beyond galaxies,
all glorious with evolving wonder,
I ponder her name,
finding no sign to remember.

...

Lost things, they say,
are sometimes found
in the same accumulations of dust
where they once vanished.

I have to find the lost star
that belongs to me.



O God!
by Qateel Shifai
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Torture my heart, O God!
If you so desire, leave me a madman, O God!

Have I asked for the moon and stars?
Enlighten my heart and give my eyes sight, O God!

We have all seen this disk called the sun,
Now give us a real dawn, O God!

Either relieve our pains here on this earth
Or make my heart granite, O God!



Hereafter
by Qateel Shifai
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Since we met and parted, how can we sleep hereafter?
Lost in each others' remembrance, must we not weep hereafter?

Deluges of our tears will keep us awake all night:
Our eyelashes strung with strands of pearls, hereafter!

Thoughts of our separation will sear our grieving hearts
Unless we immerse them in the cooling moonlight, hereafter!

If the storm also deceives us, crying Qateel!,
We will scuttle our boats near forsaken shores, hereafter.



Picnic
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My friends laugh elsewhere on the beach
while I sit here, alone, counting the waves,
writing and rewriting your name in the sand...



Confession
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your image overwhelmed my vision.
As the long nights passed, I became obsessed with your visage.
Then came the moment when I quietly placed my lips to your picture...



Rain
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Why shiver alone in the rain, maiden?
Embrace the one in whose warming love your body and mind would be drenched!
There are no rains higher than the rains of Love,
after which the bright rainbows of separation will glow with the mysteries of hues.



My Body's Moods
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I long for the day when you'll be obsessed with me,
when, forgetting the world, you'll miss me with a passion
and stop complaining about my reticence!
Then I may forget all other transactions and liabilities
to realize my world in your arms,
letting my body's moods guide me.
In that moment beyond boundaries and limitations
as we defy the conventions of veil and turban,
let's try our luck and steal a taste of the forbidden fruit!



Moon
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

All of us passengers,
we share the same fate.
And yet I'm alone here on earth,
and she alone there in the sky!



Vanity
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

His world is so simple, so very different from mine.
So distinct—his dreams and desires.
He speaks rarely.
This morning he wrote: "I saw some lovely flowers and thought of you."
Ha! I know my aging face is no orchid...
but how I wish I could believe whatever he says, however momentarily!



Come
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, even with anguish, even to torture my heart;
Come, even if only to abandon me to torment again.

Come, if not for our past commerce,
Then to faithfully fulfill the ancient barbaric rituals.

Who else can recite the reasons for our separation?
Come, despite your reluctance, to continue the litanies, the ceremony.

Respect, even if only a little, the depth of my love for you;
Come, someday, to offer me consolation as well.

Too long you have deprived me of the pathos of longing;
Come again, my love, if only to make me weep.

Till now, my heart still suffers some slight expectation;
So come, ***** out even the last flickering torch of hope!



I Cannot Remember
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I once was a poet too (you gave life to my words), but now I cannot remember
Since I have forgotten you (my love!), my art too I cannot remember

Yesterday consulting my heart, I learned
that your hair, lips, mouth, I cannot remember

In the city of the intellect insanity is silence
But now your sweet, spontaneous voice, its fluidity, I cannot remember

Once I was unfamiliar with wrecking ***** and ruins
But now the cultivation of gardens, I cannot remember

Now everyone shops at the store selling arrows and quivers
But neglects his own body, the client he cannot remember

Since time has brought me to a desert of such arid forgetfulness
Even your name may perish; I cannot remember

In this narrow state of being, lacking a country,
even the abandonment of my fellow countrymen, I cannot remember



The Infidel
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Ten thousand desires: each one worth dying for...
So many fulfilled, and yet still I yearn for more!

Being in love, for me there was no difference between living and dying...
and so I lived each dying breath watching you, my lovely Infidel, sighing afar.



Ghazal
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Life becomes even more complicated
when a man can’t think like a man...

What irrationality makes me so dependent on her
that I rush off an hour early, then get annoyed when she's "late"?

My lover is so striking! She demands to be seen.
The mirror reflects only her image, yet still dazzles and confounds my eyes.

Love’s stings have left me the deep scar of happiness
while she hovers above me, illuminated.

She promised not to torment me, but only after I was mortally wounded.
How easily she “repents,” my lovely slayer!



Ghazal
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It’s time for the world to hear Ghalib again!
May these words and their shadows like doors remain open.

Tonight the watery mirror of stars appears
while night-blooming flowers gather where beauty rests.

She who knows my desire is speaking,
or at least her lips have recently moved me.

Why is grief the fundamental element of night
when blindness falls as the distant stars rise?

Tell me, how can I be happy, vast oceans from home
when mail from my beloved lies here, so recently opened?



Abstinence?
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Let me get drunk in the mosque,
Or show me the place where God abstains!



Step Carefully!
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Step carefully Ghalib―this world is merciless!
Here people will "adore" you to win your respect... or your downfall.



Bleedings
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Love requires patience but lust is relentless;
what colors must my heart bleed before it expires?

There are more English translations of poems by Mirza Ghalib later on this page.



No Explanation! (I)
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Please don't ask me how deeply it hurt!
Her sun shone so bright, even the shadows were burning!



No Explanation! (II)
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Please don't ask me how it happened!
She didn't bind me, nor did I free myself.



Alone
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Why are you sad that she goes on alone, Faraz?
After all, you said yourself that she was unique!



Separation
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Faraz, if it were easy to be apart,
would Angels have to separate body from soul?



Time
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

What if my face has more wrinkles than yours?
I am merely well-worn by Time!



Miraji Epigrams

I'm obsessed with this thought:
does God possess mercy?
―Miraji, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, see this dance, the immaculate dance of the devadasi!
―Miraji, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Echoes of an ancient prophecy:
when my life has come and gone,
when I am dead and done,
perhaps someone
hearing again in a distant spring
will echo my songs
the world over.
―Miraji, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

If I understand things correctly, Miraji wrote the lines above after translating a verse by Sappho in which she said that her poems would be remembered in the future. I suspect both poets and both prophecies were correct!



Apni Marzi se
by Nida Fazli Shayari
translated by Mandakini Bhattacherya and Michael R. Burch

This journey was not of my making;
As the winds blow, I’m blown along ...
Time and dust are my ancient companions;
Who knows where I’m bound or belong?

Apni Marzi se kahan apne safar ke hum hain,
Rukh hawaaon ka jidhar ka hai udhar ke hum hain.
Waqt ke saath mitti ka safar sadiyon se,
Kisko maaloom kahan ke hain kidhar ke hum hain.



Every Day and in Every Direction
by Nida Fazli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Everywhere and in every direction we see innumerable people:
each man a victim of his own loneliness, reticence and silences.
From dawn to dusk men carry enormous burdens:
all preparing graves for their soon-to-be corpses.
Each day a man lives, the same day he dies.
Each new day requires the same old patience.
In every direction there are roads for him to roam,
but in every direction, men victimize men.
Every day a man dies many deaths only to resurrect from his ashes.
Each new day presents new challenges.
Life's destiny is not fixed, but a series of journeys:
thus, till his last breath, a man remains restless.



Couplets
by Nida Fazli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It was my fate to entangle and sink myself
because I am a boat and my ocean lies within.
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You were impossible to forget once you were gone:
hell, I remembered you most when I tried to forget you!
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Don't squander these pearls:
such baubles may ornament sleepless nights!
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The world is like a deck of cards on a gambling table:
some of us are bound to loose while others cash in.
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

There is a proper protocol for everything in this world:
when visiting gardens never force butterflies to vacate their flowers!
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Since I lack the courage to commit suicide,
I have elected to bother people with my life a bit longer.
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Changing Seasons
by Noshi Gillani
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Each changing season
reveals something
concealed by her fears:
an escape route from this island
illuminated by her tears.



Dust
by Bahadur Shah Zafar or Muztar Khairabadi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Unable to light anyone's eye
or to comfort anyone's heart...
I am nothing but a handful of dust.



Piercings
by Firaq Gorakhpuri
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

No one ever belonged to anyone else for a lifetime.
We cannot own another's soul.
The beauty we see and the love we feel are only illusions.
All my life I tried to save myself from the piercings of your eyes...
But I failed and the daggers ripped right through me.



Salvation
Mohammad Ibrahim Zauq
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Anxious and fatigued, I consider the salvation of death...
But if there is no peace in the grave,
where can I go to be saved?



Child of the Century
by Abdellatif Laâbi (a Moroccan poet)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I’m a child of this dreary century, a child who never grew up.
Doubts that ignited my tongue singed my wings.
I learned to walk, then I unlearned progress.
I grew weary of oases and camels infatuated with ruins.
My head inclined East only to occupy the middle of the road
as I awaited the insane caravans.



Nostalgia
by Abdulla Pashew (a Kurdish poet)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How I desire the heavens!
Each solitary star lights the way to a tryst.

How I desire the sky!
Standing alone, remote, the sky is as vast as any ocean.

How I desire love's heavenly scent!
When each enticing blossom releases its essence.



Oblivion
by Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi (an African poet who writes in Arabic)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Discard your pen
before you start reading;
consider the ink,
how it encompasses bleeding.

Learn from the horizon
through eyes' narrowed slits
the limitations of vision
and hands' treacherous writs.

Do not blame me,
nor indeed anyone,
if you expire before
your reading is done.



In Medias Res
by Shaad Azimabadi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When I heard the story of my life recounted,
I caught only the middle of the tale.
I remain unaware of the beginning or end.



Debt Relief
by Piyush Mishra
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We save Sundays for our loved ones...
all other days we slave to repay debts.



Reoccurrence
by Amrita Bharati (a Hindi poet)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It was a woman's heart speaking,
that had been speaking for eons...

It was a woman's heart silenced,
that had been silenced for centuries...

And between them loomed a mountain
that a man or a rat gnawed at, even in times of amity...
gnawing at the screaming voice,
at the silent tongue,
from the primeval day.



Don't Approach Me
by Arif Farhad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Don't approach me here by the river of time
where I flop like a fish in a net!



Intoxicants
by Amrut Ghayal (a Gujarati poet)
translation by Kanu V. Prajapati and Michael R. Burch

O, my contrary mind!
You're such a fool, afraid to drink the fruit of the vine!
But show me anything universe-designed
that doesn't intoxicate, like wine.



I’m like a commodity being priced in the market-place:
every eye ogles me like a buyer’s.
—Majrooh Sultanpuri, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

If you insist, I’ll continue playing my songs,
forever piping the flute of my heart.
—Majrooh Sultanpuri, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The moon has risen once again, yet you are not here.
My heart is a blazing pyre; what do I do?
—Majrooh Sultanpuri, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Drunk on Love
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Drunk on love, I made her my God.
She quickly informed me that God belongs to no man!



Exiles
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Often we have heard of Adam's banishment from Eden,
but with far greater humiliation, I abandon your garden.



To Whom Shall I Complain?
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To whom shall I complain when I am denied Good Fortune in acceptable measure?
Dementedly, I demanded Death, but was denied even that dubious pleasure!



Ghazal
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You should have stayed a little longer;
you left all alone, so why not linger?

We’ll meet again, you said, some day similar to this one,
as if such days can ever recur, not vanish!

You left our house as the moon abandons night's skies,
as the evening light abandons its earlier surmise.

You hated me: a wife abnormally distant, unknown;
you left me before your children were grown.

Only fools ask why old Ghalib still clings to breath
when his fate is to live desiring death.



Bi Havre ('Together')    
possibly the oldest Kurdish poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I want us to be together:
we would eat together,

climb the mountain together,
sing songs together, songs of love,

songs from the heart, sung from above.
I want us to have one heart, together.

Many words in this ancient poem are in doubt, so I have excerpted what I grok to be the central meaning.



How strange has life become:
Our evenings drag out, yet our years keep flashing by!
―original poet unknown, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Dilemma
by Michael R. Burch

While I reject your absence,
I find your presence equally intolerable.