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Whenever the wounds of your memory - Faiz Ahmed Faiz



Whenever the wounds of your memory seem to fill up again, Using one excuse or the other, I invoke those memories again.

When I begin to embellish that chapter of my lost beloved here, I ransack every house and look for tresses of her hair to caress again.

When I meet a stranger here, I think recognize an acquaintance I had met when I walked by your alley, again and again.

When memories of homelands are evoked by this exile, Morning eyes become flooded with soundless tears again.

Whenever I, with speech and lips, begin to recall you, In lamentation, half forgotten songs I scatter again.

And when on the prison’s threshold, darkness lays its hand, Faiz, you compel the stars to descend your heart’s stair again.

Translated from the Urdu:

tumhaarii yaad ke jab zaKhm bharane lagate hain kisii bahaane tumhen yaad karane lagate hain

hadiis-e-yaar ke unavaaN nikharane lagate hain to har hariim mein gesuu saNvarane lagate hain

har ajanabii hamen maharam dikhaa_ii detaa hai jo ab bhii terii galii galii se guzarane lagate hain

sabaa se karate hain Gurbat-nasiib zikr-e-vatan to chashm-e-subah mein aaNsuu ubharane lagate hain

vo jab bhii karate hai.n is nutq-o-lab kii baKhiyaagarii fazaa mein aur bhii naGmen bikharane lagate hain

dar-e-qafas pe aNdhere kii muhar lagatii hai to "Faiz" dil mein sitaare utarane lagate hain




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A Scene - Faiz Ahmed Faiz



Through doors and windows Laden with the weight of silence, Pain descends from a sky In which the moon is narrating Its sad tale.

Covered with the dust Of a thousand roads, in sleeping rooms Of semi-obscurity, listen, as this life’s Violin plays a muted lament, a faint melody.

Translated from the Urdu:

Bam-o-dar khamoshi ke bojh se chur Asmanon se ju-e-dard-rawan Chand ka dukh bhara fasana-e-nur Shah rahon ki khak mein pin han Khwabgahon mein nim tariki Muzmahil lai rubab-e-hasti ki Halke halke suron mein nauha kunan




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Tum Pukar Lo Tumhara Intezar Hai - Gulzar



Call on me, for I wait to hear your call, while night selects dreams for the restless night in which I wait for your call.

My lips should keep chanting These phrases of heartache, tell me for how many more insomniac nights? What phrases, you ask? “I love you. I wait for you.”

And the heart has to be distracted with the thought that my sorry state is, perhaps, yours too, on such nights of disunity waiting for unity.

Call for me.

Translated from the Hindustani, approximately




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