Infidel of Love

persiancarpetcircle

Shabistari

If a Muslim were to know what an idol is
He would know that religion is idol-worship
And if the associator (mushrik) were to know what an idol is
Where would he have gone wrong in his religion?

 

Original:

مسلمان گر بدانستی که بت چیست
بدانستی که دین در بت‌پرستی است
وگر مشرک ز بت آگاه گشتی
کجا در دین خود گمراه گشتی

 

treescreen

 

Amir Khusro
Translation:

I am an infidel of love: the creed of Muslims I do not need; 
Every vein of mine has become taunt like a wire,
the (Christian/Magian) girdle I do not need. 
Leave my bedside, you ignorant physician! 
The only cure for the patient of love is the sight of his beloved –
other than this, no medicine does he need. 
If there be no pilot in our boat, let there be none: 
We have God in our midst: the sea we do not need. 
The people of the world say that Khusrau worships idols. 
So he does, so he does; the world he does not need.

 

Transliteration :

Kafir-e-ishqam musalmani mara darkaar neest
Har rag-e mun taar gashta hajat-e zunnaar neest;
Az sar-e baaleen-e mun bar khez ay naadaan tabeeb
Dard mand-e ishq ra daroo bajuz deedaar neest;
Nakhuda dar kashti-e maagar nabashad go mubaash
Makhuda daareem mara nakhuda darkaar neest;
Khalq mi goyad ki Khusrau but parasti mi kunad
Aarey aarey mi kunam ba khalq mara kaar neest.

 

Original:

کافر عشقم، مسلمانی مرا در کار نیست
ہر رگ من تار گشتہ، حاجت زُنار نیست
از سر بالین من برخیز ای نادان طبیب
دردمند عشق را دارو بہ جز دیدار نیست
ناخدا بر کشتی ما گر نباشد، گو مباش
ما خدا داریم ما را ناخدا در کار نیست
خلق می‌گوید کہ خسرو بت‌پرستی می‌کند
آری! آری! می‌کنم! با خلق ما را کار نیست

 

Mezquita_de_Cordoba_Mihrab

Translation:

Every sect has a faith, a direction (Qibla) to which they turn,
I have turned my face towards the crooked cap (of Nizamudin Awlyia)
The whole world worships something or the other,
Some look for God in Mecca, while some go to Kashi (Benaras),
So why can’t I, Oh wise ones, fall at my beloved’s feet?
Every sect has a faith, a Qibla.

Original:

harqaum

 

Transliteration:
Har qaum raast raahay, deen-e wa qibla gaahay,
Mun qibla raast kardam, bar samt kajkulaahay.
Sansaar har ko poojay, kul ko jagat sarahay,
Makkay mein koyi dhoondhay, Kaashi ko koi jaaye,
Guyyian main apnay pi kay payyan padun na kaahay.
Har qaum raast raahay, deen-e wa qibla gaahay…

hajjcert_lg

Hafez in qawwal

This ghazal, attributed to Hafez, is probably not by him, but is still beautiful nonetheless.

iranpatternb

 

Translation:

I saw Beloved in the Stranger
I saw a Flower in the Ash

The one the Preacher so tried to hide
I saw that Beloved in the square.

In every direction, the splendor of Beloved, I see
In every thing, the beauty of my Love, I see

I don’t see anything without It
But in every corner and bazaar, Love I see

My selfhood does not belong to me
My own beauty as Beloved’s beauty, I see

The prayer of the ascetic is on mihrab and minbar
The prayer of the Lovers on the gallows, I see

So suddenly your righteousness is gone Hāfez
Now reason and intellect as useless, I see.

 

iranpatternb

Orginal:

بہ هر سو جلوہ دلدار دیدم
بہ هر چیز جمال یار دیدم
نديدم هيچ شي را خالي از او
پر از او كوچه و بازار ديدم
    چو خود را بنگرم دیدم همون است
  جمالی خود جمالی یار دیدم
نماز زاهدان محراب و منبر
نماز عاشقان بر دار دیدمم
جو يك رسيد از غيب حافظ
همه عقل و خرد بكار ديدم

gardengateway

Yoruba poetry in praise of Olodumare

The remarkable Mayowa Adeyemo performs a powerful poem in praise of Olodumare, the Supreme Deity.

 

Original:

Odíderé ayékòótá máa wolè máràba
Odéderé ayébòútó máa wolè máràba
oò ri’ báyé nwá doríto dò tó dobúépo
ọmọ ò gbọ́ tí baba mo, baba ò gbó dimọ má, aya ò gbọ́ lọkọ mo
gbogbo rè wá polúkúrámusu nílé ayé o
Elédùmarè e, Olódù só màre
Òbá wá bá wa túnlé ayé se
Káyé ó máse dàrú má
Káyé ó rójú, káyé ó ráàyè
Kóòdè ó gba gbogbo wa nílé ayé
Torílé ayé yìí kansoso la wá
Àjò sì nilé ayé
Gbogbo wa la ó padà relí bóbá dọjọ́ kaa
Elédùmarè o o o
Ìwọ mà lọ̀mọ̀ràn tí moyún ìgbín nínú ìkọrọhua
Ìwọ mà leni tó tọgbọ́n mọgbá orí
Ìwọ mà leni tó dá gbogbo wa rílé ayé
Tí wọ́n ti ń pelé ayé nílé dúníyàn o
Elédùmarè ọba toto bọ bí orí
Bíyá tín bì ó díè kórí ire ó lè wá
Bo lè dámí l’óhùn gbogbo ohun tí mo bá
bèrè lọ́wọ́ ò ré lújúọ tòní o
Oba atérere káré ayé, Ọba kòṣeuntì
Òbàmùbárá matéré bamba
Elédùmarè
Ènìyàn wèròwèsò tí ò sée lowó wàdùwàdù mú
Enítóbá tasè àgèsè pérén
Kódà á sanwó láyé, á wá lo rèé sekà lórun ni
Elédùmarè o o o
Ọba ńlá, tí ò seé gbíjá, ọba tí ò seé gbìjà
Torí mọ súmóba níwọ̀n egbèje
Mo jìnnà sóba níwọ̀n egbejà
mi ò mà róba fín torá róba fiń loba ń pa
Ọba tótó bí aró, ọba rèrè bí osùn
Eléní àtèká gbogbo mekùn oòyè
Òpó àndù oyè
Ọba tí wọ́n kìí bá du oyè láíláí
L’elédùmarè ọba tèmi
Ọ̀bá dákun o gbébè mi
Ọ̀bá dákun o gbébè mi
Káyé ó ńjú fún wa
Káyé ó ńjú fún wa
Kílè yí ó sàn wá
Kílè yíí ó san wá
Kámáse rógun àdáyà
Kámáse rógun àgbédá
Kámáse rógun àkóbá
Lólá Elédùmarè jóo bá jé gbó àdúrà wa
Mose tótó, mo se sákì olú
Gbogbo èyí náà, ko ba lè gbóhùn èbè mi ni
Ọ̀bá dákun wá gbọ́ o o o

enso-799284-1280x768

Your face like the moon

 

Translation:

May your charming face ever shine like the full moon;
May you hold eternal sway over the domains of beauty.
By your amorous glance you have killed a poor man like me;
How magnanimous of you? May God give you a long life.
Pray do not be cruel lest you should feel ashamed of yourself
Before your lovers on the day of judgment.
I shall be set free from the bonds of the two worlds
If you become my companion for a while.
By your wanton playfulness you must have destroyed
Thousands of hearts of lovers like that of Khusrau.

mughalminiaturelover

Transliteration:

Bakhubi hamcho mah tabindah baashi;
Bamulk-e dilbari paayindah baashi.
Man-e darvish ra kushti baghamzah;
Karam kardi Ilahi zindah baashi.
Jafaa kam kun ki farda roz-e mehshar;
Baru-e aashiqan sharmindah baashi.
Ze qaid-e dojahan azad baasham;
Agar tu hum-nashin-e bandah baashi.
Barindi-o bashokhi hamcho Khusrau;
Hazaran khanuman barkandah baashi.

 

Sadi_in_a_Rose_garden

What is brighter than the moon?

This lovely performance begins with a verse by the celebrated Persian poet Sa’adi (d. 1292), then another verse by Fakhr ad-din ‘Iraqi (d. 1289), and finally a poem by Amir Khusro (d. 1325)

 

Translation:
Grant me a warm new life or grant me a hot death
I bow my head to your rule, and take You as my king.

-Sa ‘adī

 

Why should our enemies be so fortunate to die by your hands?
The heads of living friends are  waiting for your dagger.
-‘Iraqi

 

I asked: “What is brighter than the moon?” She said: “It is my face.”
I asked: “What is sweeter than sugar?” She said: “It is my talk.”
I asked about the death of lovers; She said; “The pain of being separated from me.”
I asked about the cure of life; She said: “It is the sight of my face.”
I asked about the way of lovers; She said: “Fidelity.”
I said: “Then do not be cruel and wicked.” She said: “That is my task.”
I said: “Are you a houri or a fairy?” She said: “I am the King of idols”
I said: “Khusrau is helpless.” She said: “Worship me.”

 

persianminiaturebeaut

Original:

اگرم حیات بخشی و گرم هلاک خواهی
سر بندگی به حکمت بنهم که پادشاهی

سعدی-

نہ شود نصب دشمن، کہ شود ہلاک تیغت
سر دوستاں سلامت، کہ تو خنجر آزمائی
عراقي-

گفتم که روشن از قمر گفتا که رخسار منست
گفتم که شیرین از شکر گفتا که گفتار منست
میں نے کہا چاند سے زیادہ کچھ روشن ہے؟ کہا میرے رخسار
میں نے کہا شکر سے زیادہ میٹھا کچھ ہے؟کہا میری گفتار
گفتم طریق عاشقان گفتا وفاداری بود
گفتم مکن جور و جفا، گفتا کہ این کار منست
گفتم کہ مرگِ ناگہاں، گفتا که درد هجر من
گفتم علاج زندگی ،گفتا که دیدار منست
گفتم که حوری یا پری ، گفتا که من شاه ِ بتاں
گفتم که خسرو ناتوان گفتا پرستار منست

امير خسرو-

I stole a glance from Niẓam

 

saadilovers

 

Translation:

Let the housewife say what she will,
I stole a glance from the eyes of Nizam.

His darling face and his charming form I have hidden in the depths of my heart.
Let Khusrao perish at the feet of Nizam, I have just sold him a priceless maid [Khusrau himself]

Khusrau! It is the blissful wedding night; I awake with my love.
The body mine, the heart my lover’s— both coloured in the same hue.

 

Transliteration:

Ghar nari gawari chaahe jo kahe
Main Nijam se naina laga aaii re

Aisa sundar, aisa chhabeela, duja koi nahin
Jaisa Baba Farid ka pyara Khwaja Nijamuddin

Sohani soorat, mohani moorat,
mein to hirday beech samaa, aaii re
Khusrao Nijam ke bal bal jaaie,
mein to anmol cheri bita, aaii re

Khusrau rain suhag ki, so jagi pii ke sang
Tan mora, man piihuu kaa, so dono aik hi rang

Favorite Verses of Amir Khusro



Persian5_b

Translation:
Love of you brings news of a world beyond consciousness
     and brings the pious to down goblets of wine
Your cheek broke the repentant vows of dozens of ascetic devotees
     and nearly had them wearing black
Yearning for you is the sheriff who seizes sultan reason by the hair
     and drags him before the Messenger
To die by your sword—is this a goal to which one can strive?
     One already dead isn’t inclined to aspire so high

execution

Original:

عشقت خبر ز عالم بيهوشي آورد
اهل صلاح را به قدح نوشي آورد
رخسار تو که توبه صد پارسا شکست
نزديک شد که رو به سيه پوشي آورد
شوق تو شحنه ايست که سلطان عقل را
موي جبين گرفته به چاوشي آورد
مردن به تيغ تو چو به کوشش ميسر است
مرده ست آنکه ميل به کم کوشي آورد

Meister_des_Rasikapriyâ-Manuskripts_001

Translation:

Bing a brimming goblet that slides down the throat
     and this yearning perhaps will drain from my heart
Don’t speak of repentance or say that wine should slip my mind
     May my mind never slough off the jug
What repent of wine? If its taste is made known
     angels will descend to its scent like flies
I am in death’s bonds today, Sāqī,
     let wine flow through her head and flush her moonlike face
The ascetic tablet of my litanies and prayers is
     the shard of a jug down which the wine-script dribbles
Any bead of sweat that drops from a beautiful face
     is a disaster, a flood to carry of people’s hearts
With the way we drink our own blood at your door
     how can you choke down a single drop of wine?
Happy are the times when I think of you day and night
     and my life’s blood slashes here and there from my eyes
Open your veil and shut you lover’s mouths
Khusrau may be sinking fast from their talk

Original:

لبالب آر قدح کز گلو فرود آید
مگر که از دلم این آرزو فرود آید
مگوی تو به که آید فرود می ز سرم
مباد کز سر من این سبو فرود آید
ز می چه توبه که گر ذوق آن کند معلوم
فرشته چون مگس آنجا به بو فرود آید
به بند مردنم امروز، ساقیا، بگذار
که باده از سر آن ماهر و فرود آید
به زهد تخته ورد و دعای من باشد
سفال خم که خط می برو فرود آید
ز بهر بردن دلهای خلق سیل بلاست
هر آن عرق که ز روی نکو فرود آید
بدین صفت که همی خون خوریم بر در تو
ترا چگونه می اندر گلو فرود آید؟
خوش آن زمان که به یاد تو هر شبم تا روز
ز دیده خون جگر سو به سو فرود آید؟
نقاب واکن و لبهای عاشقان دربند
مگر که خسرو ازین گفتگو فرود آید

sakipersianmin

Translation:
Whoever sees you for one day, forgets this world and the next

Original:

هر کس که ببیندت به یک روز
ملک دو جهان کند فراموش

 

persiangardenredoutline 
Translation:
You’ve came back drunk, whose guest were you?
     I know you’re sugar, in whose cane field were you?
My absent friend, whose sad heart did you seek?
     My Joseph, whose prison were you in?
My madman, by whose alley did you walk?
     Whose anxieties did you pique?
Where did you drink wine last night? Whom did you give the goblet to?
     In the darkness of night, were you in the spring of life?
Dressed-up and drunk, in whose arms did you sleep?
     Who was so lucky? Whose orders did you obey?
Who picked through your curls? Who bit your lips?
     With whom did you sit at night? Whose guest were you?
The sweets are all plundered, o heart, what have you done?
     At whose table were you the fly?
In whose moaning body were you another soul?
     On whose searing wound did you pour the salt?
You don’t have the scent of roses, Khusrau, nor the colour of spring
In whose garden have you been strolling?

Original:

مست آمده اي باز به مهمان که بودي؟
دانم شکري در شکرستان که بودي؟
اي يار جدا مانده، دل تنگ که جستي؟
اي يوسف گم گشته به زندان که بودي؟
ديوانه من بر سر کوي که گذشتي؟
تشويش ده حال پريشان که بودي؟
مي دوش کجا خوردي و ساغر به که دادي؟
در ظلمت شب چشمه حيوان که بودي؟
آراسته و مست در آغوش که خفتي؟
اين بخت کرا بوده، به فرمان که بودي؟
جعدت که گزيده ست، لبت را که گزيده ست؟
پيش که نشستي شب و مهمان که بودي؟
حلوا همه تاراج شد، اي دل، تو چه کردي؟
شهد که چشيدي، مگس خوان که بودي؟
جان دگري در تن نالان که بودي؟
کان نمکي در دل بريان که بودي؟
ني بوي گلي داري و ني رنگ بهاري
خسرو، تو به نظاره بستان که بودي؟

Behzad_soltan_hossein_left

kingandqueenpersianmin

Translation:
One drunk on you needs no wine,
no doctor has the cure for my pain
Moon don’t rise before my eyes
for with his face, I have no need for you at all

 

Original:
مست ترا به هيچ ميي احتياج نيست
رنج مرا ز هيچ طبيبي علاج نيست
اي مه، مشو مقابل چشمم که با رخش
ما را به هيچ وجه به تو احتياج نيست
def63cbede1bcaea93df3ea536f4f52e
Translation:
Though I weep blood over your boundless cruelty
    with my eyelashes I still sweep the dust from your doorstep
You have broken many hearts of glass,
    a crime that has turned your unkind heart to stone
No fulfillment with you, no delight for me
    Soul bereft, I don’t belong to you or myself
All night ’till dawn your brutality roamed through my heart
    “Ah, now you are in my heart” I thought—”In your soul” was the reply
Don’t frown. In those creases of your brow
    I see foreshadowed the bow that will destroy the world
Who will rescue me  from your tightly pursed mouth
    when my purse is shrunk tighter than your lips?
You said, “Khusrau is mine.” What good fortune this is
I mean, just for my name to have crossed your lips
Original:
خون گريم ار چه از ستم بيکران تو
هم خاک روبم از مژه بر آستان تو
بسيار آبگينه دلها شکسته اي
زين جرم سنگ شد دل نامهربان تو
جان رفت و نه وصال توام شد نه عيش خوش
نه من از آن خويش شدم نه از آن تو
در دل که شب جفاي تو مي گشت تا به روز
گفتم که، اي تو، در دل من، گفت، جان تو
ابرو ترش مکن که شود کشته عالمي
زين چاشني که مي نگرم در کمان تو
از تنگي دهان توام دست کي دهد
روزي من چو تنگ تر است از دهان تو
گفتي که خسرو آن من است اين چه دولت است
يعني منم که مي گذرم بر زبان تو

0177d1a63adabd32c9dd3c5acc7d98bd

Translation:
Since union with you is not my lot, I try to pass the time
with heart’s blood, writing out your name, in one place, next to mine
Who is Khusrau that tormenting him, you tire your lips?
Please don’t toss out anywhere your insults like this.
Orignal
نيست چون بخت وصالم بهر صبر از خون دل
هر دمي يک جا نويسم نام تو با نام خويش
کيست خسرو تا لب خود رنجه داري در جفاش؟
اين چنين هم جابه جا ضايع مکن دشنام خويش
5 persian miniature
Translation:
I love you so much, I am overcome with jealousy
if you treat anyone else, as badly as you treated me

Original:

چنانت دوست مي دارم که غيرت مي برد جانم
ز تو بر ديگري گر خود همه بيداد مي آيد
persian-miniaturedrinkingsolo
Translation:
My fortunes woke from sleep when you slept with me
    You didn’t sleep in my embrace, but in my shining eyes
restlessly you flit about, yet in the sleepless of your friend
    you slept like a friend  to strike our enemies blind
One night, you recall, we were both in the garden:
    I in the brambles and thorns, you sleeping amidst flowers and roses
A cause for celebration! Khusrau perceived you so fully
    That you slept all night with him, arms around his neck

Original:

بختم از خواب در آمد چو تو با من خفتی
نه در آغوش که در دیده روشن خفتی
هر دمی گردی و در دیده ناخفته دوست
دوستانه ز پی کوری دشمن خفتی
یاد داری که شبی هر دو به بستان بودیم
من به خار و خس و تو در گل و گلشن خفتی
این چه عید است که خسرو ز تو قدری دریافت
که تو با او همه شب دست به گردن خفتی

Translation:

Luck turned on me when you left my side.
     When will you turn like my luck and walk back through the door?
Without the rose of your face, my heart contracts like a bud,
     and I fear when it blooms, my shirt will burst.
With patience Khusrau, one can behave with moderation
    but I fear I get worse with each passing day.

Original:

بخت برگشت ز من تا تو برفتي ز برم
کي بود باز که چون بخت در آيي ز درم؟
بي گل روي تو چون غنچه دلم تنگ آمد
بيم آن است که بر خويش گريبان بدرم
به صبوري بتوان کرد مداوا، خسرو
بيم آن است که هر روز که آيد بترم
Translation:
Like two dice, your eyes have won my heart and soul
and if you come to gamble, both worlds, by rights, are yours to win
Coming once you carried off a hundred like Khusrau, heart and soul.
Come again like this two or three times, and who will survive?
Original:
 منم و دلی و آهی ره تو درون این دل
مرو ایمن اندر این ره که فگار خواهی آمد
به یک آمدن ربودی، دل و دین و جان خسرو
چه شود اگر بدین سان دو سه بار خواهی آمد
Persianmss14thCambassadorfromIndiabroughtchesstoPersianCourt
Dancing_dervishes
Translation:
You bring the lips, I’ll bring the heart,
now you have both wine and kabob
Original:
لب از تو و دل ز من، خوشي کن
چون هم مي و هم کباب داري
 Translation:
You graciously gave me two kisses, but I passed out from the first
Come let’s start from the beginning, because I’ve lost count
What you declare so publicly, Khusrau is a dream
Where did you doze off to see things like this around you?
Original:
دو بوسم لطف کردي و شدم هم در يکي بيهش
رها کن تا ز سر گيرم که گم کردم شمار خود
به خواب ست اينکه مي گويي به پيش مردمان، خسرو
ترا کو خواب تا ببيني ازينها در کنار خود
Translation:
She speaks in the Turkish tongue, but I don’t know Turkish
How sweet would it be if her tongue were in my mouth!
My body burns with love beneath my shirt
so much that my glowing bones show through
Fulfill the heart lorn Khusrau’s desire, sit here awhile
so your heart will take pity on all my moaning and wailing
Original:
زبان اوست ترکي گوي و من ترکي نمي دانم
چه خوش بودي، اگر بودي زبانش در دهان من
چنان از عشق مي سوزد تنم در زير پيراهن
که از بيرون پيراهن نمايد استخوان من
مراد خسرو بيدل بر آر و يک زمان بنشين
که رحمي بر دلت آيد ز فرياد و فغان من
perisanminmaidenwithflowers
Translation:
Though you load my body, weak as a hair, with a universe of woe
     I’ll not trade a single strand of your hair for both worlds
Why should I explain to you how I am,
     now that Khusrau has become a legend in yearning and searching for you?
Original:
به تن چو تار مويت نهي ار دو صد جهان غم
ندهم به هيچ حالي دو جهان به تار مويت
پس ازين چه جاي آنت که ز حال خود بگويم
که فسانه گشت خسرو به جهان ز جستجويت
 Mughal Miniature Painting Depicting a Lady Standing by a Tree in Blossom
Translation:
When her robe and her shift touch her skin,
      I am envious of her robe and her robe envies her shift
She winks and people die, but does she grieve
      the death of so many thousands like me?
Strange, one can get no sense of the stamp of her mind
      but can see her spirit move through the thin gauze her body
I feed off it, a parasite, the way you tie people up in your curls
      Bring a rope and throw it around my throat.
I crumble to dust on her street, I have only one regret:
      that this dust contaminated with sorrow might reach her on the wind
Her lover, her pilgrim, dies a martyr of love
      He is blessed and his shroud becomes a regal robe
To be joined with her is  no more than this:
      the lover is killed and plunged into her tangling hair
You didn’t understand Khusrau what your tongue asked of you
It was a hint to take a sword and cut off its head
Original:
قبا و پيرهن او که مي رسد به تنش
من از قباش به رشکم، قبا ز پيرهنش
کرشمه مي کند و مردمان همي ميرند
چه غم ز مردن چندين هزار همچو منش
عجب، اگر نتوان نقش خاطرش دريافت
ز نازکي بتوان ديد روح در بدنش
طفيل آنکه کسان را به زلف در بندي
بيار يک رسن و در گلوي من فگنش
به کوي او که شوم خاک، نيست غم مگر آنک
ز باد گرد غم آلود من رسد به تنش
شهيد عشق که شد يار در زيارت او
مبارک آمد و فرخنده خلعت کفنش
وصال با وي ازين بيش نيست عاشق را
که کشته گشت و در آمد به زلف پر شکنش
زبان که خواست ز تو، خسروا، نکردي فهم
کنايتي ست که برگير تيغ و سرفگنش
persianminiaturebeaut
Translation:
Your cheek is like the moon, but more moon than moon
     You tortured my heart and left behind a wound
Your wink mows the rows of other beauties down
     If it’s not too much trouble, mow down my poor heart too
You cast a shadow on my joy, darkened my heart’s day
     and eclipsed the age of far-sighted reason too
“Kill me if you won’t comfort me” I said to you
     You can’t be bothered and are too lazy too
So I killed myself, the weapon of my choice: your cruelty
     I made it all so easy for you and for myself too
My patience goes missing and leaves me behind
     It won’t look back now out of fear, nor peek too far ahead
Let me tie on the infidel sash, abandon these idols
     and give up praying and, God forbid, religion too
Though he brings on the apocalypse in my very soul
     may he live until the end of days and a little longer too
You always tell me, “My elixir is sweet.”
If you ask Khusrau, darling, he’ll tell you that it’s poison too
persianminwomansmoking
 
Original:
اي رخت چون ماه و از مه بيش هم
خسته کردي سينه ما، ريش هم
غمزه تو بر صف خوبان زند
گر نرنجي بر دل درويش هم
تيره کردي عيش ما و روز دل
روزگار عقل دور انديش هم
گر نوازش نيست کشتن، گفتمت
کاهلي کردي در آن فرويش هم
کشتم از دست جفايت خويش را
بر تو آسان کردم و بر خويش هم
مي رود صبر من آواره ز من
پس نمي بيند ز بينم و پيش هم
ما و زنار مغانه کز بتان
وين نماز، استغفرالله، کيش هم
گر چه بر جانم قيامتها از اوست
تا قيامت عمر بادش بيش هم
هر زمان گويي که نوش من خوش است
گر ز خسرو پرسي، اي جان، نيش هم
Translations from In the Bazaar of Love 
by Paul Losensky and Sunil Sharma
tumblr_mln05eahg81qfj8xgo1_1280

Bulleh Shah-My Beloved Reveals Untold Secrets

 

Behad Ramzan Dasda Mera Dholan Mahi
(My beloved reveals untold secrets)

 

Transliteration
and
Translation

 

Ve Di??? Bhena Dus Mullah
Ouh Alif Seedha Kam Khat Aaya
O Yaar ???
Hun Des Vataa Hun Ik Wat Aaya
Sohna Meem Da Ghunghat Pa Ke Dekh…
Ali Haidera Pehle Ahad Si Hun Ahmad Bun Ke Vad Aaya

 

Speak not of the chaos of the “be”, O Mullah!
The straight “alif” has no twists1.
The lover of that single night has given up his land and come again wearing the veil of the beautiful “mim”.
He has come with locks of hair.
Ali Haider was first Ahad, now he comes again as Ahmad.

Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi
Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi

kite shia ey kite sunni ey
kitne jada dhar
kite munni he
kitte pataka beda dasda
bukhabe vich kidre vasda

Sometimes he is a Shia, sometimes a Sunni
Sometimes with long matted hair,
Sometimes shorn bald
Sometimes he talks of the Ka’ba
Sometimes he lives in the idol house.

Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi
Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi

aape zahir, aape baatin, aape luk luk pehnda hai
aape mullah, aape qaazi, aape ilm parhenda hai
khat zulnar kufar da gal vich butkhane vich behnda hai
zaaton ashraf yaar ranjhe da layan di laj rakhenda hai
aape lukda, aape dhadsa, aape dhun machenda hai
bullah shah, inaayat menu bal bal darshan denda hai

He is visible, he is unseen, he hides himself
He is the mullah, the qazi, he teaches knowledge
Wearing the infidel amulet he sits in the idol house
Of noble birth, my friend Ranjha keeps the honor of theafflicted
He hides, he tells, he spreads rumors
O Bullah, Shah Inayat shows himself to me again and again

Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi
Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi

lung karani dus ke jaani hun kiyoon mukh chupaya hai
mein dholan vich faraq na kayi inna-ma farmaya hai
tan sawan de keere paaye jo jharya so paya hai
mansoor ko lo kuch zahir hoya soli pakar charhaya hai
dasso nuqta zaat ilahi sajda kis karwaya hai
bulleh shah da hukum na manya shaitan khuwar karaya hai

After showing yourself my love, why have you hidden your face?
There is no difference between me and the beloved, theQuran says inama
You infested Sabir’s body with worms and each that fellwas replaced
Mansur showed a little and you had him executed
Tell me, oh God, who had the angels bow to us?
You did not listen to Bulleh Shah’s command and made thedevil unhappy

 

Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi
Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi

ik laazim baat adab di hai
sanu baat maloomi sub di hai
her her vich surat rubb di hai
kitte zahir kitte chupdi hai o sohna

There is one essence of knowledge
We know everything about all
The face of God is in everyone
Sometimes visible, sometimes hidden

Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi
Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi

asi vekh ke surat dilbar di aj besurat nu jaan gaye
bina Ayn arab bina meem Ahmad
assan yaar nu khoob puchan gaye
kitte Toor de purdeh chukda hai
kitte nawa de vich lukda hai
jad ramz puchandi yaaran ne
o sub sadqe qurban gaye

Seeing the face of the beloved, we understand thefaceless
An Arab without the “ain “, Ahmad without the”mim” 12
We have recognized our friend
He lifts curtains of light
He hides behind names
When the friends discovered his secret
They sacrificed everything they had

Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi
Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi

ouh besurat vich surat de bun aap Muhammad aaya hai
rakh saamne sheesha wahdat da
aj Rubb ne yaar sajaya hai
bin surat de Rubb nahi labda
ohdi shakal noorani mukh Rubb da
je ohna hunda na Rubb hunda
Laulakh khuda farmaya hai
eh gal koi yaar khatawi nahi
je khuda ou nahi je juda vi nahi
aape ahmad bun ke hamd karay
te Muhammad naam rakhaya hai

From facelessness, he has come with the face of Muhammad
With the mirror of unity in front of him
God has decorated the friend
God cannot be found without a face
His face is light, the face of God
If he was not there, God would not be
God from heaven has said this
Oh friend, this is not a complaint
If he is not God, he is not separate from him
He becomes Ahmad to praise himself
And names himself Muhammad

Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi
Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi 10:20

aape taalib te matloob aape
aape aap apna mehboob aape
aape apne aap de milne di
tadbeer banayi chaandi ey
jad shor muhabbat ne paya
be-surat surat bun aaya
aape apne hijar vichore di taqreer sunyai jandi ey
aape mud qadeema kalla ey
koi ghair nahi Allah he Allah ey

He is the wanter and the wanted
He is his own lover
He makes plans to meet himself
When love raised a tumult
The faceless one came with a face
He tells us about his own separation
He has been alone since eternity
He is not a stranger. He is Allah

Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi
Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi

zara bekhud hoke dekh miyaan
jehde basti ey ouh wasda ey
bina gurr kamil nae peth khule
ey kalma koi na dasda ey
besurat surat bun aaya
khud aap muhafiz surat da
khud rooh misaal te jism hoya
aape har har de vich wasda ey
aape qasrat de vich banda ey
ate aahdiyat vich Maula hai
ilm apne da aap aalim hai
kitte aazadi kitte phasda ey
jadu akhiyan dittian musharad ne
her dekheiya her her shaan andar
kitte momin hoke manda hai
kitte kair hoke nasda hai

Lose yourself for a moment and consider
One lives where one has a home
This mystery cannot be solved without perfect learning
No one tells us of this
The faceless becomes one with a face
The guardian of the face
The spirit, the example and the body
He lives in each one
He is humanity in its countless numbers
He is the God in his unity
He is the scholar of his own knowledge
He is free. He is captive
When the teacher gave us eyes
We saw him in everyone in all his glory.
Sometimes he believes as a Muslim
Sometimes he runs away as an unbeliever

Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi
Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi

Raag 13:50

ki karda ni ki karda dilbar ki karda
ikke ghar vich wasdeah rasdeah
nai hunda vich purdah
dilbar ki karda ki karda ni ki karda dilbar ki karda
vich maseet namaaz guzare
butkhane ja warda
dilbar ki karda ki karda ni ki karda dilbar ki karda
aap ikko kayi lakh gharan de
malik sub ghar ghar da
dilbar ki karda ki karda ni ki karda dilbar ki karda
jit wal dekha ut wal ouh ho
her di sangat karda
dilbar ki karda ki karda ni ki karda dilbar ki karda
Musa te Pheron bana ke
do ho ke kiyoon larda
dilbar ki karda ki karda ni ki karda dilbar ki karda
hazir nazir hertha ouh ho
kehra kis nu kharda
dilbar ki karda ki karda ni ki karda dilbar ki karda
kitte Rumi ey kitte Shani ey
kitte sahib kitte ghulami ey
kitte khasan vich kitte aami ey
ouh aape aap tamami ey ouh sohna

What is my beloved doing, what is he doing?
Living together in one house
There should be no secrets between us
He prays in the mosque
He enters the idol house
What is my beloved doing, what is he doing?
He himself is one and has a hundred thousand houses
The master of every house
What is my beloved doing, what is he doing?
Whomever I look to, he is there
He accompanies everyone
What is my beloved doing?
Whomever I look to, he is there
He accompanies everyone
What is my beloved doing, what is he doing?
Creating Moses and the Pharaoh
Why does he become two and fight?
What is my beloved doing, what is he doing?
He is present, he is visible, he is everywhere
Who is taking whom along?
What is my beloved doing, what is he doing?
Sometimes he is Rumi, sometimes Shams
Sometimes he is a master, sometimes a slave
Sometimes he is the nobility, sometimes the common folk
He is complete in himself

Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi
Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi
Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi

Meem Day Ohlay Wasda Ne Dholan Mahi

Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi
Beh Haadh Ramza Dhasdha Mera Dholan Mahi

kun keha fayakum kahaya
bechooni se choon banaya
aahad de vich meem ralaya
hun mei lakhya sohna yaar
jisde husn da garam bazaar
meem de ohle wasda mera dholan mahi

He said “kun” and “fayakun”
From nothingness he created existence
Now I see the beautiful friend
Whose beauty has excited the bazaar
He lives under the “mim,” my beloved.

wasda meem de ohle mera dholan mahi
wasda meem de ohle mera dholan mahi

 

He lives under the “mim,” my beloved.
He lives under the “mim,” my beloved.

 

pyara pehn pushaka aaya
aadam apna naam daraya
ahad to bun ahmad aaya
nabiyan da sardar

 

The beloved has come wearing raiments
He calls himself Adam
From Ahad [The One] he has become Ahmad [The name of the Prophet]
The king of the prophets

wasda meem de ohle mera dholan mahi
wasda meem de ohle mera dholan mahi

He lives under the “mim,” my beloved.
He lives under the “mim,” my beloved.

 

kaaran preet neet bun aaya
meem da ghunghat mukh te paya
ahad ou ahmad naam dhayara
mera dholan mahi wasda meem de ohle

 

He has come as the deed, love and desire
Wearing the veil of the “mim” over his face
From Ahad he calls himself Ahmad
He lives under the “mim” my beloved.

mera dholan mahi wasda meem de ohle
mera dholan mahi wasda meem de ohle

He lives under the “mim,” my beloved.
He lives under the “mim,” my beloved.

 

aap ahdiyat de vich ahad
aape vich wahdat roop yaar da ey
aape noor wadood shahood aape
aape aap sare roop dhar da eh
oh mehboob aape aape ho aashiq
aape apne touh jind varda eh
o dewaniya meem Muhammadi cho
piya alif aape chamka maarda eh

In unity he became one
In unity is the manifestation of the friend
He is the light, existence and witness
He is all the manifestations
He is the beloved, he is the lover
He gives himself life
Oh, madman from the “mim” of Muhammad
The “Alif” flashes forth.

mera dholan mahi wasda meem de ohle
mera dholan mahi wasda meem de ohle

He lives under the “mim,” my beloved.
He lives under the “mim,” my beloved.

raag 25:50

karan ki behad tareef usdi
ohta lung behad cho had aaya
hoya bari behad di qaid vicho
aj had de vich behad aaya
bibi aaminah de ghar houn ehda
dekho kufr te shirk da radd aaya

 

How can I praise him limitlessly?
From infinity he has become finite
Freed from the prison of limits
He has become limitless
There are celebrations in the house of Bibi Aminah
See, the negation of unbelief and association has come

o deewaniya meem da kund pa ke
surat vich allah hus samad aaya

Oh, madman wearing the veil of “mim”
Allah has shown himself in his face

mera dholan mahi wasda meem de ohle
mera dholan mahi wasda meem de ohle

ahay meem de ohle wasda mera dholan mahi
behad ramza dhasda mera dholan mahi

He lives under the “mim,” my beloved
My beloved reveals untold secrets

auliyah shah mansur kahave
ramz anal haqq aap sunave
aape aap nu sooli charhave
kol khaloke hass da mera dholan mahi
behad ramza dhasda mera dholan mahi

He called Mansur the king of Theologians
He made him tell the secret of “I am the Truth”
He had himself executed
And laughed standing by
My beloved reveals untold secrets.

behad ramza dhasda mera dholan mahi
behad ramza dhasda mera dholan mahi…

 

 

lyrics and translation from : https://vimeo.com/25239636

 

bullehshahpoem

The Wisdom of Khusrau

iso-100-f6-3-1160s-55mm
 
Translation:
Poverty is more pleasant than majesty;
      depravity, more pleasant than piety.
Majesty has its headaches, and when last I looked
      beggary was more pleasant.
Since kings let no one approach them,
      being indigent among the poor is more pleasant
When pride gets into someone’s head,
      being pals with a dog from the streets is more pleasant
When the heart breaks with melancholy over some beauty
      that breaking is more pleasant than any salve
Public love play with idols is more pleasant
      than all this devout hypocrisy
Once won, there’s no pleasure in love
      Separation, for those who play this game, is more pleasant.
Put your base love out of your mind, Khusrau
Love for the sacred secret is more pleasant

2546291292_23666ab4cd_z

Original:

مفلسي از پادشايي خوشتر است
مفسدي از پارسايي خوشتر است
پادشاهي راست درد سر، ولي
چون نگه کردم گدايي خوشتر است
پادشاهان چون به خود ندهند راه
با فقيران بي نوايي خوشتر است
آدمي چون کبر در سر مي کند
با سنگ کو، آشنايي خوشتر است
دل که از سوداي خوبان بشکند
آن شکست از موميايي خوشتر است
آشکارا عشقبازي بيا بتان
از بسي زهد ريايي خوشتر است
نيست لذت عشق را بعد از وصال
عشقبازان را جدايي خوشتر است
عشق دوتان، خسروا، از سر بنه
عشق با سر خدايي خوشتر است

islamic geometry 2
Translation:
Since we’ve pulled our skirts back form the spread of worldly wares
      we’ve rolled up our clothes and moved into the beggar’s alley
Sāqī pour out the wine from the flask
      for we have drunk too many tears from sky-blue bottles
Since the cup of black and white dice that roll across the earth’s green felt
      is loaded full of trickery, we have drunk dark red wine
Now it’s poverty and its myriad meanings like threads
      that we’ve woven into a blanket and pulled down over our head
We’ve pulled back the skirts of ambition from all the world yields
      since it could never fill the pockets of greed.
Smash the assayer’s touchstone against a rock
      Gold is just yellow clay when we have wisdom’s scales
Khusrau, we are not children to seek out shiny yellow and reds
Like adults we’ve pulled back our hearts from gold and pearls

Islamic Geometry 1,  2012, flasche on canvas, 36x36

Original:

تا دامن از بساط جهان در کشیده ایم
رخت خرد به کوی قلندر کشیده ایم
ای ساقی، از قرابه فرو ریز می که ما
خونابه ها ز شیشه اخضر کشیده ایم
در حقه سفید و سیه بر بساط خاک
چون پر دغاست، باده احمر کشیده ایم
فقر است و صد هزار معانی درو چو موی
آن را گلیم کرده و در سر کشیده ایم
چون جیب حرص پر نشد از حاصل جهان
دامان همت از سر آن در کشیده ایم
بر سنگ زن عیار زر، ایرا گلی ست زرد
چون در ترازوی خردش بر کشیده ایم
خسرو نه کودکیم که جوییم سرخ و زرد
چون بالغان دل از زر و گوهر کشیده ایم

 

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Translation:

The wise ought not to set their hearts
      on the seductiveness the world displays
Why fall in love with the phantasms of this world
      The mirror shows the  face to be a borrowed thing
Don’t think the knots on your brow are firm and strong
      Fate takes note of them only to untie them
How vainly you say, “I will stand firm.”
      If life itself won’t stand firm, how will you?
While alive, one’s meaning and form remain
      Though through form, one joins meaning
My heart is in ruins and people have hearts of stone
      One shouldn’t rebuild this edifice with such bricks
Humankind is chaff, how can it cling to gold?
      Straw is naturally drawn to amber.
You’ll get no provisions from worthless companions
      The camel is mated, but no foal is born
When you speak bitterly, the answer will be the same
      If you curse an enemy, he won’t reply sweetly
Seeking insight form the immature is
      like a fool rubbing his head against unfired brick
If you ask me truly about the story of this world—
      it’s an easy lie that Khusrau sings.
 2039871282_2fe0944dda

Original:

بدان دلفریبی که گیتی نماید
خردمند را دل نهادن نشاید
چه بندی دل اندر خیالات عالم؟
که آیینه رو عاریت می نماید
گره های غمزه مبین سخت و محکم
که چرخش ندید آن، مگر می گشاید
چه بیهوده گویی که پاینده مانم
تو مانی، اگر زندگانی نپاید؟
کسی زنده ماند به معنی و صورت
که از راه صورت به معنی گراید
دل خلق سنگین و دل در خرابی
ازان سنگها این عمارت نشاید
خس است آدمی، چون گرفتار زر شد
چون آن کاه کش کهربا می رباید
ز اصحاب ناجنس زادی نیابی
که استر شود جفت و کره نزاید
چو تو تلخ گویی، همان است پاسخ
عدوگاه دشنام شکر نخاید
بدان ماند از خام جستن بصیرت
که بر خشت خام ابلهی سر نساید
حدیث جهان گر ز من راست پرسی
دروغی ست آسان که خسرو سراید

Amir Chakhmaq Mosque Facade - Yazd, Iran

Translation:

My life is over and I did not turn to the Lord
       I did not seek out those moments of rapture, and now the chance has slipped
How can my heart wash away its filthy corruption?
        Unlike my tears, my ablutions failed to flood me with regret
My tears did not wash away my black disgrace
        My face did not shine bright in the ranks of true men
What do I know of the path of those lion-hearted nocturnal wanderers
        When I haven’t spent a night or two even roaming the alleys with dogs?
Never a ball nestled in the crook of love’s polo stick,
        my head could not be struck by the ecstasy of my Sultan’s presence
My rheumy nose could not pick up the smell of musk
        too congested to catch the perfume of creation.
They advise me to give up my bad habits, but how can I do so now
        when I haven’t made a habit of it from the first?
I threw away my whole life on lies:
        I never bowed down sincerely before the Lord.
Poetry became my plague, alas that Khusrau never said, “Silence”
        and I never stopped talking.

Iranian Tiles

Original:

برفت عمر و به سوي خداي روي نکردم
بشد غنيمت و اوقات جستجوي نکردم
ز لوث فسق دل من چگونه دست بشويد؟
به غسل جاي ندامت چو ديده چوي نکردم
سياه رويي خود را به آب ديده نشستم
به صف مردان خود را سفيد روي نکردم
طريق شيردلي هاي شبروان چه شناسم
که صحبتي دو سه شب باسگان کوي نکردم؟
کجا به حضرت سلطان قبول حال بيايد
سري که در خم چوگان عشق گوي نکردم
دماغ کرد چنينم که طيب خلق ندانم
زکام داشت بر آنم که مشک بوي نکردم
به ترک خوي بدم مي دهند پند، وليکن
کنون چگونه کنم، کز نخست خوي نکردم؟
تمام عمر برانداختم به کذب که هرگز
به صدق پيش خدا قامت دو توي نکردم
وبال من همه شعر آمد و دريغ که خسرو
نگفت «خاموش » و من ترک گفتگوي نکردم

Translations from In the Bazaar of Love 
by Paul Losensky and Sunil Sharma

Tilework,_Portico,_Friday_Mosque,_Natanz,_Iran_(14475149205)

Compare with Hafez’s ghazal:

 

Translation:

Last night a wise, keen-minded one whispered to me,
“The wine-seller’s secret should not be hidden from you.”

 

He said, “Take it easy, for by its nature,
the world is hard on those who try hard.”

 

And then he gave me a cup and in its light, across the heavens
Venus began to dance, and played her lute, and cried, “Drink!”

 

While your heart bleeds, let your lips smile like the cup.
Don’t, if you are stuck, break into a roar like the harp

 

Until you are an initiate you will not hear a secret in this music.
The outsider’s ear is no place for the angel’s message.

 

Listen to my advice, O son, and don’t worry about the world.
I told a pearl-like ḥadīth if you can hear it

 

In love’s sanctuary there is no murmur of debate
because all your limbs must be eye and ear.

 

In the shop of those who understand subtlety,
hawking oneself is not allowed. Speak knowingly, o wise one, or be quiet

 

O Sāqī, give us wine, because Aṣaf of auspicious birth,
forgiver of sins and overlooker of faults, understands what Hafez really means

 

Translation from The Green Sea of Heaven
by Elizabeth Gray

woodpatterns

Original:

دوش با من گفت پنهان کاردانی تیزهوش
وز شما پنهان نشاید کرد سر می فروش
گفت آسان گیر بر خود کارها کز روی طبع
سخت می‌گردد جهان بر مردمان سخت‌کوش
وان گهم درداد جامی کز فروغش بر فلک
زهره در رقص آمد و بربط زنان می‌گفت نوش
با دل خونین لب خندان بیاور همچو جام
نی گرت زخمی رسد آیی چو چنگ اندر خروش
تا نگردی آشنا زین پرده رمزی نشنوی
گوش نامحرم نباشد جای پیغام سروش
گوش کن پند ای پسر وز بهر دنیا غم مخور
گفتمت چون در حدیثی گر توانی داشت هوش
در حریم عشق نتوان زد دم از گفت و شنید
زان که آنجا جمله اعضا چشم باید بود و گوش
بر بساط نکته دانان خودفروشی شرط نیست
یا سخن دانسته گو ای مرد عاقل یا خموش
ساقیا می ده که رندی‌های حافظ فهم کرد
آصف صاحب قران جرم بخش عیب پوش

mini

Amir Khusro in Love

Main To Piya Se Naina Laga Aayi Re

 

Translation:

Hey, I’ve just had an affair with my darling,
Don’t care what the neighbourhood girls say;
Just had an affair with my darling.
Oh, his beautiful face, charming like an idol,
I’ve just made a place in the bottom of his heart.
I, Khusrau, give my life to Nizamuddin in sacrifice,
I’ve just heard him call me his most favourite disciple;
Don’t care what the neighbourhood girls say,
I’ve just had an affair with my darling.

indiansunhug

Transliteration:

Main to piya say naina lada aayi ray,
Ghar naari kanwari kahay so karay,
Main to piya say naina lada aayi ray.
Sohni suratiya, mohni muratiya,
Main to hriday kay peechay samaa aayi ray;
Khusrau Nijaam kay bal bal jayyiye
Main to anmol cheli kaha aayi ray,
Ghar naari kanwari kahay so karay,
Main to piya say naina lada aayi ray.

(from : http://www.angelfire.com/sd/urdumedia/lyrics.html)

 

 

 

 

Mora jobana navelara 

Translation:

My youth is budding, full of passion;
How can I spend this time without my beloved?
Would someone please tell Nizamuddin for me,
The more I appease him, the more annoyed he gets;
My youth is budding……
I want to break these bangles in the bed,
And throw my blouse into the fire,
The empty bed scares me,
The fire of separation keeps burning me.
Oh, beloved. My youth is budding.

 

lovers ona pyrre persianmin

 

Original:

 

Transliteration:

Mora jobana navelara, bhayo hai gulaal,
Kaisi dhar dini bikas mori maal.
Mora jobana navelara…….
Nijamudin aulia ko koyi samajhaaye,
Jyon jyon manaon, wo to rootha hi jaaye.
Mora jobana navelara……
Chudiyan phod palang pe daaron,
Is cholee ko doon main aag lagaai.
Sooni saij darawan laagay, virah agni mohay dus dus jaaye
Mora jobana navelara…

(From : http://www.angelfire.com/sd/urdumedia/lyrics2.html)

indian couple

 

It’s Spring Again!

Amir Khusro wrote several poems about Basant, a pre-Islamic Panjabi/South Asian/Hindu festival celebrating the arrival of spring by flying kites, wearing yellow, carrying yellow flowers. A legend goes that Amir Khusro’s shaykh, Nizamuddin, was mourning the death of his nephew when Amir Khusro came with a whole Basant procession to cheer him up. Chisti Sufis have celebrated Basant ever since.

basant

Translation:

Rejoice in the spring, beautiful bride,
Rejoice in the spring today.
Put make-up on your face and lashes
And comb your long hair.
You’re still dead sleep,
Get up, beautiful bride.
Destiny is knocking on your door,
Enjoy this spring, O bride.

A snobbish lady with arrogant looks,
That’s what you are.
The king of Amir, on seeing you,
Will cast glances of love towards you.

The spring is here again,
Rejoice in the spring today.

dancingindiandeer

Transliteration:

Aaj basant manaalay suhaagun,
Aaj basant manaalay;
Anjan manjan kar piya mori,
Lambay neher lagaaye;
Tu kya sovay neend ki maasi,
So jaagay teray bhaag, suhaagun,
Aaj basant manalay…..;
Oonchi naar kay oonchay chitvan,
Ayso diyo hai banaaye;
Shaah-e Amir tohay dekhan ko,
Nainon say naina milaaye,
Suhaagun, aaj basant manaalay.

 

Aaj Rang hai

 

Translation (of chorus and final section of the qawwal)

What a colour, oh what a colour
Oh beloved, please dye me in yourself;
Dye me in the colour of the spring, beloved;
What a glow, Oh, what a glow.

 

Transliteration:

Main to aiso rang aur nahin dekhi ray
Main to jab dekhun moray sung hai,
Aaj rung hai hey maan rung hai ri.

 

Mohe apne hi rang mein

 

Translation:

Colourful, come dye me in your own hue
You are my lord, Beloved of God
Dye me in your hue.
My scarf, and my love’s turban,
Both need to be dyed in the hue of spring;
Whatever be the price for dyeing, ask for it,
You can have my blossoming youth as payment;
Dye me in your hue.
I have come and fallen at your door step,
For you to protect my honor
You are my Lord, Oh beloved of God,
Dye me in your hue.

 

A-lady-bends-to-pick-up-a-kite

 

Transliteration:

Mohay apnay hi rung mein rung lay,
Tu to saaheb mera Mehboob-e-Ilaahi;
Mohay apnay hi rung mein……
Humri chundariya, piyaa ki pagariya,
Woh to donon basanti rung day;
Tu to saaheb mera …….
Jo kuch mangay rung ki rungaai,
Mora joban girvi rakhlay;
Tu to saaheb mera…….
Aan pari darbaar tehaaray,
Mori laaj saram sab rakh lay;
Tu to saaheb mera Mehboob-e-Ilaahi,
Mohay apnay hi rung mein rung lay.

 

secret-rendezvous-of-radha-krishna-AE88_l

 

Sakal Bhun (The Yellow Flower)

 

Translation:

The yellow flower is blooming in every field,
Mango buds are clicking open, other flowers too;
The koyal chirps from branch to branch,
And the maiden tries on her make-up,
The gardener-girls have brought bouquets.
Colourful flowers of all kinds,
In hands everyone’s bringing;
But the colour-lover, who had promised to come
To Nizamuddin’s house in spring,
Hasn’t turned up – its been years.
The yellow flower is blooming in every field.

Transliteration:

Sakal bun phool rahi sarson,
Sakal bun phool rahi…..
Umbva phutay, tesu phulay, koyal bolay daar daar,
Aur gori karat singaar,
Malaniyan gadhwa lay aayin karson,
Sakal bun phool rahi…..
Tarah tarah kay phool lagaaye,
Lay gadhwa haathan mein aaye.
Nijamudin kay darwazay par,
Aawan keh gaye aashaq rung,
Aur beet gaye barson.
Sakal bun phool rahi sarson.

 

Original:

sarson

(from: http://www.angelfire.com/sd/urdumedia/lyrics2.html)

Persian-Music-2greenroom

another beautiful song by Amir Khusro in the same Raag Bahar (springtime mode):

Hazrat Khwaja sung khayliye Dhamal

 

Translation:

Let us play Dhamal with Hazrat Khwaja,
Everyone dresses up, the twenty two saints have come,
So let us play Dhamal;
Give respect to our exalted Messenger.
We celebrate spring for you, Oh Arab friend.
Keep the colourful spirit alive for ever.
Let us play Dhamal with Hazrat Khwaja.

(Dhamal could be a song or a musical genre that aroused ecstasy amongst the Sufis. It was usually performed at special occasions such as Basant.)

mughalwoman

 

Transliteration:

Hajrat khaja sung khailiye dhamal,
Hajrat khaja sung…….
Baais khaja mil bun bun aaye,
Taamay hajrat Rasool saheb-e jamaal
Hajrat khaja sung khailiye…….
Arab yaar tori basant manaayo,
Sadaa rakhiyo laal gulaal…..
Hajrat khaja sung khailiye dhamal.

 

Original:

dhamal

From: http://www.angelfire.com/sd/urdumedia/lyrics2.html

 


Mughal Floral Miniature mughal_flower_aa63