Biography of Rasul Mir
Rasool Mir (Kashmiri: रसूल मिर, رسول مِر) was one of the leading Kashmiri poets of the 19th century. Was born at Dooru Shahabad, a historic town in Anantnag district of Jammu and Kashmir. He has been titled as keats of kashmir for his powerful romantic poetry but at times he mingles with mysticism.
He decended from a family of zamindars who used to be village heads at Doru. Now government has laid a beautiful lawn and tomb at mir's graveyard.
Rasul Mir, that skilled decanter of love, has a raging controversy shrouding his age. The local traditions recorded in 1940’s of by Ab Ahad Azad, spoke of a death in his prime. Folk history has it that, Mahmood Gani predicted his youthful death (Amis Chhi jan-h-margi handi koder). His poetry, its fervent youthfulness, its vibrant tenor, its tone of hearty yearning, its pristine emotions, all point to a poet, untouched by the cares of decaying age. Rasul Mir was said to have been alive in 1855 AD when Mahmood Gani passed away and died a few years before-Maqbool Shah Kralawari (d.1874). Accordingly his demise was reckoned between 1867-1870). Rasul Mir was thus said to have lived between 1820s and 1870s. Mr. Teng in his Kuliyati Rasul Mir, refers to a document, in revenue records at Anantnag, which bears the signature of Rasul Mir, as Nambardar and is dated 5th of April 1889. On this basis, Rasool may have lived into the last decade of 19th century.That is as close to factual certainity as researches have gotten to.
For the rest, there is his poetic legacy, and, ah again oral traditions. Oral traditions say, Rasul Mir was tall, handsome fair complexioned person, and sported moustaches that tapered far into the face. He was graceful, fashionable fellow, with a youthful heart that throbbed with love, love, and lots of love.
Yi chho Rasul Mir Shahabad Doo-rey
Tami chho trov-mut lo-la du-kaan
Yi-vu aash-qow che-vu tor-re tor-rey
Mai chho moor-rey la-la-vun naar.
This is Rasul Mir, at Shahabad, Doru. He has opened a love-kiosk. Come ye lovers, drink free cup.
Love’s fire burns me deep
Love, is the waft and whoop, the craft and creed of Rasul Mir(He lived love, sang love, and lives for his love-ful passion). Love, the first strings of human heart that present the whole universe as an undulating poem. Love is the creed, beloved is the god and lyrics rush forth in bubbling streams to worship the deity. Singing, sighing and singing again they cascade over the expanses of life, in undating it in its fervor.
Ze-h posha tu-l-i maeni aashq-a mas-jid
husn imam ta-th
Tsa-ae bae-ng-i shu-baan mokh-ta-e da-ae
Ch-e-i yous-faen-i chae-lee
My Loves’ mosque, is an edifice of just two petals, Love is the preist there, Ye pearly one art the caller there, Ye, who hath the Yousef’s grace. Mir’s beloved is grace personi fied Zeh posha tu-l (two petals, mere) the being of his, object of love, is characteristic of Rasul Mir’s’ dainty love.
Love, flowers, passion and fragrance, the eternal inciters of life and beauty, are a recurring motiff in his poetry.
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Rasul Mir Poems
Boeti No Yeh Dooreur Chonuai Zarai
This Is Rasul Mir, At Shahabad, Doru.
This is Rasul Mir, at Shahabad, Doru. He has opened a love-kiosk. Come ye lovers, drink free cup. Love's fire burns me deep
My Heart Is Not The Love One
My heart is not the love one, caged in that love This is way, the path through which, not one but two worlds've gone
You Stay Away, My Angry Love
You stay away, my angry love, and here I sink from senses dear; My tears flow and wash all kajal from my eyes dear
Bride's robes, would suit thee well, Ye, my beloved of short years Thy braids of hair, thy ear rings peep from beneath the gossamer cover
That Face Is The Kaaba Of Beauty
That face is the kaaba of beauty, her lashes layered over and over. In the path of love, it is meet to bow to those two brows
My Heart You Stole
My heart you stole, and left me a maiden.
Rasuls, Knows Thy Locks And Looks
Rasuls, knows thy locks and looks is a fine faith. How'd he know what is kufur, and what Islam, dear.
I Am All Ashake, I May Die
I am all ashake, I may die my heart's wish has seen no fulfillment that lovely, pleasing, my heart throb he hasn't come, ah Dear!
Veer-Nag, I'Ll Go To Usher Thee
Veer-nag, I'll go to usher thee, Thy brow I'll deck in flowers of Acha-bal Yeh, vine I'll twins thee to my breast come ye kasturi, don't roam the meadows free
Come Let Us Be Friends
Come let us be friends, ye lovely beauty, listen to my laments, oh Henzi, come to see the mela and, we shall roam through Telbal
O' Livest In All The Traglies
O' livest in all the traglies, gazing at red hands. drank the cup of all woes, keeping alive all desires.
Don'T Unveil The Face
Don't unveil the face, Don't glitter the scene. Don't try to test my race, The race not in reign.
Ye Tulip Faced, Thee I'D Hold
Ye tulip faced, thee I'd hold by neck to heal my pain sans thee, Rasul the flower bed, is a thorny seat for me
My Loves' Mosque
My Loves' mosque, is an edifice of just two petals,
Love is the preist there,
Ye pearly one art the caller there,
Ye, who hath the Yousef's grace.