Maut
kī nīnd sé pahlé bhī inhéiṅ dékhā thā
Ākhirī
bār yahī log milé thé ham sé
Apnī
tārīk-mizājī ko sajāyé rukh par
Apnī
uljhan ko lapété hué apné sar par
Ungliyāṅ
zulm kī, tasbīh ké dāné majbūr
Bhoṅdé
māthé pé sajāyé hué chāval kī lakīr
Khud
uṛāté hué kuchh zauq-é-salībī kā mazāq
Pīli
chādar méin lapété hué kālī rūhéiṅ
Apné
hotoṅ pé sapédī ko lapété chahré
Maut
ki nīnd sé pahlé bhī inhaiṅ dékhā thā
Ākhirī
bār yahī log milé thé ham sé
Hamné
phūloṅ kī haṅsī, chānd ki kirnéiṅ lékar
Jī
méiṅ thānī thī basāyéiṅgé mahbbat kā jahāṅ
Bas
yahī log tabhī āyé thé yé kahné hamsé
Zindagī
rasm ké sansār méiṅ ābād karo
Rūh
ké pānv méiṅ zanjīr-é-ibādat dālo
Kohnā
afkār kī chādar ko lapéto sar sé
Aur
sajdé méiṅ jhukāo yé mahabbat kī zabīṅ
Maut
kī nīnd sé pahlé bhī inhaiṅ dekhā thā
Ākhirī
bār yahī log milé thé hamsé
In
kī bātoṅ pé hansé, hans ké yahī hamné kahā
Ham
nahīṅ zauq-é-ibādat se pighalné vālé
Ham
nahīṅ apné irādoṅ ko badalné vālé
Apné
kānoṅ méiṅ faqat dil kī sadā ātī hai
Ham
kahāṅ dahar kī āvāz sunā karté hain
Ham
ko kyoṅ rasm ké sansār méiṅ lé jāogé
Ham
ko kyoṅ kohnā ravāyāt sé taṛpāogé
Ham
haiṅ āvārā-mizājī ké payambar, yāro!
Ham
se gar sīkh sako, sīkh lo jīnā, yāro!
Maut
kī nīnd sé pahlé bhī inhaiṅ dekhā thā
Ākhiri
bār yahī log milé thé hamsé
I’d
seen them before the eternal sleep of death,
These
very people had met us at the final hour,
Decorating
their historical pride on their faces,
Twining
their worries on their heads,
Cruel
fingers, helpless lie the rosary beads,
Embellishing
a vermillion line of rice on their crude forehead,
Enveloping
black souls with a yellow mantle,
Faces,
donning a paleness on their lips,
I’d
seen them before the eternal sleep of death,
These
very people had met us at the final hour.
We
had gathered the smiles of flowers with moonbeams,
And
had pledged to inhabit a world full of love,
It
was then when these people came to tell us,
Live
life as per the wordly rituals,
Chain
thy soul with the shackles of prayers,
Wrap
thine head with the age-old worries,
And
bow in prostration, thy brow of love.
I’d
seen them before the eternal sleep of death,
These
very people had met us at the final hour.
We
retorted with a smile and said,
We
aren’t going to melt with the taste of prayers,
We
aren’t going to alter our beliefs,
Our
ears pay heed to only the voice of the heart,
Why
would you take us to the world of rituals?
Why
would you flutter us with age-old worries?
We
are the messengers of free-spiritedness.
I’d
seen them before the eternal sleep of death,
These
very people had met us at the final hour.
- Anwar Nadeem (1937-2017)
Translated from Urdu by Saira Mujtaba