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Sahir In English

 
 
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> Sahir In English
r&d
post Oct 25 2011, 11:10 PM
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Taken from http://www.sahirludhianvi.com/blog/index.p...h-translations/


BLOOD IS BUT BLOOD !

A slain Lumumba is by far mightier than a living Lumumba -Nehru

Repression is sill repression
Rising, it must flop
Blood is sill blood
Spilling it must clot.

Whether it clots on desert sands
Or upon assassin’s hands
On justice’s head or around shackled feet
On injustice’s sword or on the wounded corpse
Blood is still blood
Spilling, it must clot.

However much one lies in ambush
Blood betrays butcher’s hideout
Conspiracies may veil in thousand darkly mask
Each blood drop ventures out with burning lamp on its palm.

Tell oppression’s vain and blemished fate
Tell cruelty’s crafty Imam
Tell the UN Security Council
Blood is crazy
It can leap up to the cloak
It is inferno, it can flare up to burn grain-stock.

The blood you sought to suppress in abattoir
Today that blood moves out into street
Here an ember, there a slogan, there a stone
Once blood comes to flows
Bayonets are no avail
Head, once it is raised
Is not downed by law’s hail.

What is about oppression?
What is with its impression?
Oppression is, all of it, but oppression
From beginning to end
Blood is still blood
Myriad form it can assume
Forms such as are indelible
Embers such as are inextinguishable
Slogans such as are irrepressible.
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r&d
post Oct 25 2011, 11:12 PM
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LENIN (1917)

Divisions marred world
Wiled, troubled for ages
Sufferings leached from
Inhabited ruins.

One’s luxury thrived
On millions’ poverty
Set this condition
As if nature’s rendition.

Character was bothered
Culture scared
By despicable masters
By the hideous blasters!

Dastardly politics camouflaged
Crime credos with
Catholic Churches’ trickery masks

You freed humans’ fate
From religion’s deceits
From royalty’s cruel conceits.
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r&d
post Oct 25 2011, 11:13 PM
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I AM ALIVE!

I still live
Make it known
Break news to assassins
My own.

The ground is hard
Heaven is far
Bear with if you can

In many ways
You meet with oppression
It must not be
Always tears!

If same repression recurs
Commit the same sin again

Breaking the cage is for later
Just now aspire
For plumage coat
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r&d
post Oct 25 2011, 11:15 PM
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COME! LET’S WEAVE THE ODD DREAM!
Sahir Ludhianavi

Dreams propped spent
A wholesome life’s intent- Sahir

How would it go?
If I were to expose
Ravaged garden’s ground?
Who is by how much
To sinning bound?
What you resented hearing at open meet
How would it go?
If I told that out in street?

NOTE: ENGLISH TRANSLATION EXCERPTS from Sahir’s book AAO KE KOI KHWAB BUNEIN
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r&d
post Oct 25 2011, 11:16 PM
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O NOBLE SOULS!
( translation of Sahir’s AI SHRIF INSANO!)

Upon bloodshed, all same
Eigen or the alien
After all humanity bleeds
Upon war, all same
In West or in the East
World Peace bleeds.

Whether bombs rain on homes
Or they fall on border
Progress’ conscience wounds
Whether our own or the others’
Fields on fire
Make life simmer
In hungers dire.

Wether tanks advance
Or they withdraw
The womb of earth steriles
Victory’s hurrah
Or the defeat’s condoling draw
Life over coffins riles.

War is itself a discord
How could war ever
Resolve problems?
Today it grants
Fire and blood
Hunger and want
It must tomorrow accord.

Hence, o noble folks!
War had better postpone
In compounds yours and the mine
Lamps had better burn on.

II

Must ascendancy’s measure then
End only in bloodsheds’ daze?
To dispel homes’ darknesses
Must homes burn, raze?

Why, war has other arenas too
Not only this mayhem’s battlegrounds!
Wisdom is life’s attainment too
Not only insanity’s this lowly bounds!

Come!
In this luckless world
Let’s spread thought’s light
Those that prop peace
Let’s arrange such wars’ flight

War against uncivilization, barbarism
Peace for progress and culture’s fare
War against macabre politics
Peace for human welfare.

War against poverty, slavery
Peace for better living’s grace
War against misled leaders
Peace for hapless populace

War against capitalist hegemony
Peace for public good’s affairs
War against war’s philosophy
Peace for peaceful life’s fares!
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post Oct 25 2011, 11:18 PM
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Brothels
These lanes, these marts of rich delights,
Precious lives, undone, defiled;
Where are the defenders of virtuous pride?
Where are they who praise, the pious eastern ways?

These sinuous streets, these doors ajar,
The clinking coins, the moving masks,
Deals of honour, hagglings fast,
Where are they who praise, the pious eastern ways?

These dimly-lighted, stinking streets,
These yellowing buds, crushed and ceased,
These hollow charms, for sale and lease;
Where are they who praise, the pious eastern ways?

The jingling trinklets at casement bright,
Tambourins athrob’ mid gasping life;
Cheerless rooms with cough alive;
Where are they who praise, the pious eastern ways?

Boisterous laughs on public paths,
Crowds at windows, thick and fast,
Vulgar words, obscene remarks;
Where are they who praise, the pious eastern ways?

The betel spittal, the floral wreaths,
Audacious looks and filthy speech,
Flaccid figures, looks diseased;
Where are they who praise, the pious eastern ways?

Lecherous eyes in beauty’s quest,
Extended hands chasing breasts,
Springing feet on stairs pressed;
Where are they who praise, the pious eastern ways?

This is the haven of young and old.
Aging sires and youngsters bold,
Wife, mother and sister — she plays a triple role.
Where are they who praise, the pious eastern ways?

Help, O Help, this daughter of Eve!
Radha’s child, Yashoda’s breed;
The prophet’s race, Zuleikha’s seed;
Where are they who praise, the pious eastern ways?

Call, O call the leaders wise
Let them see these streets, these sights,
Where are the champs of eastern pride?
Where are they who praise, the pious eastern ways?
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post Oct 25 2011, 11:19 PM
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Taj Mahal

The Taj, mayhap, to you may seem, a mark of love supreme
You may hold this beauteous vale in great esteem;
Yet, my love, meet me hence at some other place!
How odd for the poor folk to frequent royal resorts;
‘Tis strange that the amorous souls should tread the regal paths
Trodden once by mighty kings and their proud consorts.
Behind the facade of love my dear, you had better seen,
The marks of imperial might that herein lie screen’d
You who take delight in tombs of kings deceased,
Should have seen the hutments dark where you and I did wean.
Countless men in this world must have loved and gone,
Who would say their loves weren’t truthful or strong?
But in the name of their loves, no memorial is raised
For they too, like you and me, belonged to the common throng.

These structures and sepulchres, these ramparts and forts,
These relics of the mighty dead are, in fact, no more
Than the cancerous tumours on the face of earth,
Fattened on our ancestor’s very blood and bones.
They too must have loved, my love, whose hands had made,
This marble monument, nicely chiselled and shaped
But their dear ones lived and died, unhonoured, unknown,
None burnt even a taper on their lowly graves.

This bank of Jamuna, this edifice, these groves and lawns,
These carved walls and doors, arches and alcoves,
An emperor on the strength of wealth, Has played with us a cruel joke.
Meet me hence, my love, at some other place.
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