LOST in Translation

I know the prayer

Poet

Saghar Siddiqui

Pen Name(s)

Saghar

Translation in Rhyme

I know the prayer, yet the words escape,
My song’s melody fades, lost in its shape.
 
At my beloved’s door, a beggar’s plea I bring,
But no lamentations come, no verse to sing.
 
My blood sheds in alleys, a vow once made,
Now she claims no memory, a promise betrayed.
 
Her eyes quick to weep at the sunset’s gleam,
The lamp’s light trembles, was it just a dream?
 
I see stars in a haze, their tales untold,
Who’s aggrieved with me and when, I can’t behold.
 
A lifetime under oppression’s grim decree,
Yet the crime I bear, remains a mystery.
 
Let’s prostrate, mindlessly, in humble regard,
They say Saghar forgets God—oh, how marred.
 

Translation in Prose

 I know the prayer, just don’t remember the words,
My songs don’t remember the melody.1
 
My eyes have knocked on the doorstep of my beloved,
I am that beggar who doesn’t remember any lamentations.2
 
For whom I spilled my blood in the alleyways,
That same one tells me she doesn’t remember our promise.
 
How quickly her eyes filled with tears at sunset,
How quickly were shaken the light of the lamps, I don’t remember.
 
I have only witnessed a hazy glow of the stars,
Who and when did someone get upset with me, I don’t remember.
 
I have spent a lifetime in continuous oppression,
For what crime do I bear the punishment, I don’t remember.
 
Let us prostrate in a state of mindlessness,
People claim that Saghar doesn’t remember God.3
 

Transliteration

hai duā yād magar harf-e-duā yād nahīṇ 
mere naghmāt ko andāz-e-navā yād nahīṇ 
 
maiṇ ne palkoṇ se dar-e-yār pe dastak dī hai 
maiṇ vo sā-il hūṇ jise koī sadā yād nahīṇ 
 
maiṇ ne jin ke liye rāhoṇ meṇ bichhāyā thā lahū 
ham se kehte haiṇ vahī ehd-e-vafā yād nahīṇ 
 
kaise bhar āīṇ sar-e-shām kisī kī āṇkheṇ 
kaise tharrāī charāghoṇ kī ziyā yād nahīṇ 
 
sirf dhuñdlāe sitāron kī chamak dekhī hai 
kab huā kaun huā kis se khafā yād nahīṇ 
 
zindagī jabr-e-musalsal kī tarah kātī hai 
jāne kis jurm kī pāī hai sazā yād nahīṇ 
 
aao ik sajdā kareṇ ālam-e-madh hoshī meṇ 
log kehte haiṇ ki saghar ko khudā yād nahīṇ  

I’m always late

Poet

Munir Niyazi

Pen Name(s)

Munir

Translation in Rhyme

In all I do, I’m late, you see,
Be it words unsaid or a heartfelt plea,
To call her back, or a promise to keep,
I lag behind, in my timing, I reap.
 
To offer aid, or consoling speech,
On worn paths traveled, I’m slow, out of reach.
In every season’s shift, I pause, I’m slow,
Remembering some, forgetting others as I go.
 
In moments dire, from death to save,
Or shatter illusions, reality engrave.
In all I undertake, I hesitate,
I’m always late, my timing’s fate.
 

Translation in Prose

I’m always late in doing everything,
Whether it’s something important that I have to say, a promise I have to keep.
Whether I have to call after her, ask her to come back,
I’m always late.
Whether I have to lend a helping hand, say words of encouragement,
Whether I have to travel on worn paths to go meet her,
I’m always late.
Whether I have to occupy myself in the changing seasons, remembering someone forgetting others
I’m always late.
Whether I have to save someone from grieving before death, to break the news that reality was different from perception,
I’m always late in doing everything.
 

Transliteration

hameshā der kar detā hūṇ maiṇ har kām karne meṇ 
zarūrī bāt kehnī ho koī vāda nibhānā ho 
usay āvāz denī ho usay vāpus bulānā ho 
hameshā der kar detā hūṇ maiṇ 
madad karnī ho us kī yār kī dhāras baṇdhānā ho 
bahut derīna rastoṇ par kisī se milne jānā ho 
hameshā der kar detā hūṇ maiṇ 
badalte mausamoṇ kī sair meṇ dil ko lagānā ho 
kisī ko yād rakhnā ho kisī ko bhūl jānā ho 
hameshā der kar detā hūṇ maiṇ 
kisī ko maut se pahlay kisī ġham se bachānā ho 
haqīqat aur thī kuch us ko jā ke ye batānā ho 
hameshā der kar detā hūṇ maiṇ har kām karnay meiṇ

Limits of your love

Poet

Alama Iqbal

Pen Name(s)

Iqbal

Translation in Rhyme

In quest, I seek your boundless love’s end,
See my simplicity, what task I contend.

A pledge of immodesty, how bold the vow,
I seek trials to test my patience now.

Grant heavens to the virtuous, they say,
Yet I seek your presence, day by day.

An insignificant heart, yet eager to find,
Words that match, with boastful mind.

Counting last breaths, a guest in this show,
Like a dying lamp whose light is about to go.

In the crowded assembly, secrets laid bare,
Feeling remorseful, seeking punishment fair.
 

Translation in Prose

I seek the limits of your love,
Behold, what simplicity I seek.

How dare be there a promise of immodesty,
I seek something to test my patience.

The heaven be granted to the righteous,
For I simply seek your encounter.

Insignificant heart, yet playful it is,
I seek to hear the same boastful talk.

Few breaths left, I am a guest of this gathering,
A morning lamp, I seek to be extinguished.

Having disclosed the secrets in a crowded assembly,
Disrespectful I am, I seek due punishment.
 

Transliteration

tere ishq kī intihā chāhtā hūṇ 
merī sādgī dekh kyā chāhtā hūṇ 

sitam ho ke ho vada-e-be-hijābī 
koī bāt sabr-āzmā chāhtā hūṇ 

ye jannat mubārak rahe zāhidoṇ ko 
ke maiṇ āp kā sāmnā chāhtā hūṇ 

zarā sā tho dil hūñ magar shokh itnā 
vohī lan-tarānī sunā chāhtā hūñ 

koī dam kā mehmāṇ hūñ ai ahl-e-mehfil 
charāgh-e-seher hūṇ bujhā chāhtā hūṇ 

bharī bazm meiṇ rāz kī bāt keh dī 
baṯā be-adab hūñ sazā chāhtā hūñ 

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  • Wanderer on If you ever think of me: “Wow, beautiful poetry. Amazing imagination by the poet expressed through beautiful words.Oct 23, 00:17
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