Translating Faiz
I thought of this post while searching for translation of Faiz's poem 'Subah-e-Azadi'. A search on Google with keywords 'Faiz, translation' brought 56,700 results in 0.39 seconds. Thats fast and huge for a poet of non English language. The similar searches for Mirza Ghalib, Allama Iqbal and Kaifi Azmi produced 21700,38600 and 512 results respectively.
The search also took me to a page of The Sunday Tribune June2,2002. Here Amar Nath Wadehra is reviewing a new book "Translation of Faiz's 100 poems" by Sarvat Rahman.
In this article Amar after informing the reader about difficulties in translating a poem lists down two translation of Faiz's arguably most famous poem to illustrate his point. I am copying the poem and the two translation here for better readability.
The Poem Is:
mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng
mai.n ne samajhaa thaa ki tuu hai to daraKhshaa.N hai hayaat
teraa Gam hai to Gam-e-dahar kaa jhaga.Daa kyaa hai
terii suurat se hai aalam me.n bahaaro.n ko sabaat
terii aa.Nkho.n ke sivaa duniyaa me.n rakkhaa kyaa hai
tuu jo mil jaaye to taqadiir niguu.N ho jaaye
yuu.N na thaa mai.n ne faqat chaahaa thaa yuu.N ho jaaye
aur bhii dukh hai.n zamaane me.n mohabbat ke sivaa
raahate.n aur bhii hai.n vasl kii raahat ke sivaa
mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng
anaginat sadiyo.n ke taariik bahimaanaa talism
resham-o-atalas-o-kam_Khvaab me.n bunavaaye huye
jaa-ba-jaa bikate huye kuuchaa-o-baazaar me.n jism
Khaak me.n litha.De huye Khuun me.n nahalaaye huye
jism nikale huye amaraaz ke tannuuro.n se
piip bahatii hu_ii galate huye naasuuro.n se
lauT jaatii hai udhar ko bhii nazar kyaa kiije
ab bhii dil_kash hai teraa husn maGar kyaa kiije
aur bhii dukh hai.n zamaane me.n mohabbat ke sivaa
raahate.n aur bhii hai.n vasl kii raahat ke sivaa
mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng
[daraKhshaa.N : shining; hayaat = life]
[Gam-e-dahar = sorrows of the world; aalam = world]
[sabaat = permanence; niguu.N = bow/subservient]
[faqat = merely; vasl = union/meeting; taariik = dark]
[bahiimaanaa = dreadful; talism = magic]
[resham = silk; atalas = satin; kam_Khvaab = brocade]
[jaa-ba-jaa = hither-thither; litha.De = covered/soaked in]
[amaraaz = diseases; tannuuro.n = ovens; piip = pus]
[naasuur = ulcer/a wound that won't heal; dil_kash = heart-warming]
Sarvat's Translation:
Don’t ask me now, Beloved, for that love of other days
When I thought since you were, life would always scintillate
That love’s pain being mine, the world’s pain I could despise.
That your beauty lastingness to the spring would donate,
That nothing in the world was of worth but your eyes;
Were you to be mine, fate would bow low before me.
It was not so; it was only my wish that it were so;
Other pains exist than those that love brings,
Other joys than those of lovers’ mingling.
Dark fearful talismans, come down the centuries,
Woven in silk and damask and cloth of gold;
Bodies that everywhere in streets are sold
Covered with dust, all their wounds bleeding.
Shiv’s Translation:
Ask me not for that old fervour, my love.
I had then imagined that your love would spark off my being,
counterpoise the giant agony of the world
that your beauty would bring every spring to eternal blossom.
And what else was there to cherish but your eyes?
once you were mine would not fate itself bow to me?
I had only willed it all but it was not to be,
for there are sorrows other than heartache,
joys other than love’s rapture.
If there are spells of those dark, savage, countless centuries
bodies robed in silk, satin and velvet
then aren’t there also bodies traded down streets and alleyways
bodies smeared in dust, bathed in blood
bodies emerging from ovens of sickness
bodies with pus oozing from chronic sores?
If these images also seize my eye
even though your beauty still enthralls,
it’s because there are sorrows other than heartache,
joys other than love’s rapture
so ask me not for that old fervour, my love".
The search also took me to a page of The Sunday Tribune June2,2002. Here Amar Nath Wadehra is reviewing a new book "Translation of Faiz's 100 poems" by Sarvat Rahman.
In this article Amar after informing the reader about difficulties in translating a poem lists down two translation of Faiz's arguably most famous poem to illustrate his point. I am copying the poem and the two translation here for better readability.
The Poem Is:
mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng
mai.n ne samajhaa thaa ki tuu hai to daraKhshaa.N hai hayaat
teraa Gam hai to Gam-e-dahar kaa jhaga.Daa kyaa hai
terii suurat se hai aalam me.n bahaaro.n ko sabaat
terii aa.Nkho.n ke sivaa duniyaa me.n rakkhaa kyaa hai
tuu jo mil jaaye to taqadiir niguu.N ho jaaye
yuu.N na thaa mai.n ne faqat chaahaa thaa yuu.N ho jaaye
aur bhii dukh hai.n zamaane me.n mohabbat ke sivaa
raahate.n aur bhii hai.n vasl kii raahat ke sivaa
mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng
anaginat sadiyo.n ke taariik bahimaanaa talism
resham-o-atalas-o-kam_Khvaab me.n bunavaaye huye
jaa-ba-jaa bikate huye kuuchaa-o-baazaar me.n jism
Khaak me.n litha.De huye Khuun me.n nahalaaye huye
jism nikale huye amaraaz ke tannuuro.n se
piip bahatii hu_ii galate huye naasuuro.n se
lauT jaatii hai udhar ko bhii nazar kyaa kiije
ab bhii dil_kash hai teraa husn maGar kyaa kiije
aur bhii dukh hai.n zamaane me.n mohabbat ke sivaa
raahate.n aur bhii hai.n vasl kii raahat ke sivaa
mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat merii mahabuub na maa.Ng
[daraKhshaa.N : shining; hayaat = life]
[Gam-e-dahar = sorrows of the world; aalam = world]
[sabaat = permanence; niguu.N = bow/subservient]
[faqat = merely; vasl = union/meeting; taariik = dark]
[bahiimaanaa = dreadful; talism = magic]
[resham = silk; atalas = satin; kam_Khvaab = brocade]
[jaa-ba-jaa = hither-thither; litha.De = covered/soaked in]
[amaraaz = diseases; tannuuro.n = ovens; piip = pus]
[naasuur = ulcer/a wound that won't heal; dil_kash = heart-warming]
Sarvat's Translation:
Don’t ask me now, Beloved, for that love of other days
When I thought since you were, life would always scintillate
That love’s pain being mine, the world’s pain I could despise.
That your beauty lastingness to the spring would donate,
That nothing in the world was of worth but your eyes;
Were you to be mine, fate would bow low before me.
It was not so; it was only my wish that it were so;
Other pains exist than those that love brings,
Other joys than those of lovers’ mingling.
Dark fearful talismans, come down the centuries,
Woven in silk and damask and cloth of gold;
Bodies that everywhere in streets are sold
Covered with dust, all their wounds bleeding.
Shiv’s Translation:
Ask me not for that old fervour, my love.
I had then imagined that your love would spark off my being,
counterpoise the giant agony of the world
that your beauty would bring every spring to eternal blossom.
And what else was there to cherish but your eyes?
once you were mine would not fate itself bow to me?
I had only willed it all but it was not to be,
for there are sorrows other than heartache,
joys other than love’s rapture.
If there are spells of those dark, savage, countless centuries
bodies robed in silk, satin and velvet
then aren’t there also bodies traded down streets and alleyways
bodies smeared in dust, bathed in blood
bodies emerging from ovens of sickness
bodies with pus oozing from chronic sores?
If these images also seize my eye
even though your beauty still enthralls,
it’s because there are sorrows other than heartache,
joys other than love’s rapture
so ask me not for that old fervour, my love".
posted by Qais at 11:13 PM
4 Comments:
Good job Qais. Looking forward to more poetry and translations in future.
there are sorrows other than heartache
what a sad thing to say and yet how consoling !
Thanks alok.
It is difficult to find translation on web of these poems, fortunately I was able to come across the article. As you would have noticed both the translations don't do justice to the poem.
In future if time permits, I will try to do it myself.
This is Agha Shahid Ali's version - I personally like this best of all , though it may not be as "literal" as the others.
Don't Ask Me for That Love Again
Faiz Ahmad Faiz
That which then was ours, my love,
don't ask me for that love again.
The world then was gold, burnished with light --
and only because of you. That's what I had believed.
How could one weep for sorrows other than yours?
How could one have any sorrow but the one you gave?
So what were these protests, these rumors of injustice?
A glimpse of your face was evidence of springtime.
The sky, wherever I looked, was nothing but your eyes.
If You'd fall into my arms, Fate would be helpless.
All this I'd thought, all this I'd believed.
But there were other sorrows, comforts other than love.
The rich had cast their spell on history:
dark centuries had been embroidered on brocades and silks.
Bitter threads began to unravel before me
as I went into alleys and in open markets
saw bodies plastered with ash, bathed in blood.
I saw them sold and bought, again and again.
This too deserves attention. I can't help but look back
when I return from those alleys --what should one do?
And you still are so ravishing --what should I do?
There are other sorrows in this world,
comforts other than love.
Don't ask me, my love, for that love again.
Thanks maya for dropping in and sharing this version of translation. It is truly best of the two.
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