Written For Narender (1) Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

Written For Narender (1)



The day was delightful,
When each window of its baradari
Was unbolted the door was wide open.
The sky was replete with flights,
From the earth to the doors of heaven,
Swallows of your laughter,
Engrossed, clang to the hem of my dress.
All of sudden you built a new city of mysteries,
Windows of which were embellished
With gems of a newfangled sense,
And fresh friendship, of self-recognition,
Magnanimity and of transparent beams.

We raised new glow-worms at foggy nights,
Adorned images of thoughts and feeling,
We talked a lot revealing hearts,
Talked of Faiz and Rashad and in imagination
Enjoyed the company of Faraaq and Mir,
Ate with relish edibles in the small bazar.

On small bridge across a conduit we squatted
On the spread shawls, along the road merging
Itself in the remote knolls, we discussed
Philosophies, then all of sudden rosy flowers
Budded in the form of songs

The dawn of life was pleasant, I recall moments
When you fondled fingers to search something
In outlines of the pages of "Zindaan Nama"
Surging eyes raked an ocean: intensity of passion
That ran in ebb and flow of poems and you
Being melancholic of bygone moments
Of moonlight sang some songs with sad face
You sang a song soaked in soreness too.
I went through the lines of "Zindaan Nama"
In solitude, I read out all couplets time and again
And I made you a guarantor of cheerfulness
Overwhelming passions of those days.

That was also a transparent day,
But I don't know what happened,
When we were face to face after years
I beheld the baradari of that day,
All windows were shut tight,
And in the corners the swallows of laughter
Were asleep, I beheld the winds stopped
On those knolls, those lips were sans jingles
Of Faiz and Ghalib. What happened to them?
Why were we strangers then again?
The fingers that searched delight in "Naqsh-e-Faryaadi"
Then held a cigarette, there were some
Rising streaks of smoke, dissipating gradually
In the air, I returned to the worn-out house,
All exhausted, despondent and embarrassed,
I had on my head the catafalque of bygone
Memories, the image of my longing was there
To lament with elegiac tone, I fondled to search
With fingers drowned into the icy river of pain.
A solitary tree of pain got frozen in blows of oddities.
Now in baradari of the past only blow wild winds.


Written by Jagdish Prakash
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Aftab Alam Khursheed 25 March 2013

Shanazar very good translation you made alive

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