Rediscovering the element of Jihaad within the self. This silent war against the world, within the self. In a state of animation, and the promise of suspension. All melting like multiple layers on a pizza in the oven. Bake my emotions. Tonight.
The translation is inadequate. Urdu cannot really be translated. It can be possibly be conveyed only in visual terms. Every language has its idioms, that cannot be translated. Cannot be conveyed. Words…
This poem by Faiz Ahmed Faiz. I used to wear a beautiful shirt with his poetry running across my belly. Next quote that!
Teri Samundar Ankhon Mein
Yah dhup kinara shaam dhalen,
Milte hain dono waqt jahan,
Jo raat na din, jo aaj na kal,
pal bhar ko amar, pal bhar mein dhuaan
Is dhup kinaare pal do pal.
Hothon ki lapak
Baahon ki khanak
Yah mel hamaara jhooth na sach
Kyon raar karen, kyon dosh dharen
kis kaaran jhoothi baat karen
Jab teri samandar aankhon mein
Is shaam ka suraj dubega
Sukh soyenge ghar dar waale
Aur rahi apni rah lega.
And the watery but without choice translation.
This edge of sunlight, as evening descends,
the meeting point of dark and light,
‘fore tommorrow begins and this day ends:
a pause between the day and the night.
Eternal for a moment,
Transient in a moment,
on this edge of sunlight, for a fraction of time.
the impatience of lips; arms in contact;
our union needs not to attest, misbelieve
or blame, what need is there to deceive?
The evening sun sets in the depths of your eyes
as in peaceful sleep the homedweller lies
and the traveller takes to the road with a sigh.
