فیض احمد فیض / Faiz Ahmed Faiz, August, 1952

روشن کهيں بهار کے امکاں هوۓ تو هيں / It’s still distant, but there are hints of springtime
گلشن ميں چاک چند گريباں هوۓ تو هيں / some flowers, aching to bloom, have torn open their collars.

اب بهي خزاں کا راج هے، ليکن کهيں کهيں / In this era of autumn, almost winter, leaves can still be heard
گوشے رەِ چمن ميں غزل خواں هوۓ تو هيں / their dry orchestras play, hidden in corners of the garden.

ٹههري هوي هے شب کي سياهي وهيں، مگر / Night is still where it was, but colors at times take flight,
کچھ کچھ سحر کے رنگ پر افشاں هوۓ تو هيں / leaving red feathers of dawn on the sky.

ان ميں لهو جلا هو همارا، کۂ جان و دل / Don’t regret our breath’s use as air, our blood’s as oil –
محفل ميں کچھ چراغ فروزاں هوۓ تو هيں / some lamps at last are burning in the night.

هاں کج کرو کلاە کۂ سب کچھ لٹا کے هم / Tilt your cup, don’t hesitate! Having given up all,
اب بے نيازِ گردشِ دوراں هوۓ تو هيں / we don’t need wine. We’ve freed ourselves, made Time irrelevant.

اهلِ قفس کي صبحِ چمن ميں ُکھلے گي انکھ / When imprisoned man opens his eyes, cages will dissolve: air, fire,
بادِ صبا سے وعدە و پيماں هوۓ تو هيں / water, earth — all have pledged such dawns, such gardens to him.

هے دشت اب بهي دشت، مگر خونِ پا سے فيض / Your feet bleed, Faiz, something surely will bloom
سيراب چند خارِ مغيلاں هوۓ تو هيں / as you water the desert simply by walking through it.

(Translated by the ever-loved Kashmiri poet, Agha Shahid Ali)