Yeh Daag Daag Ujaala, Yeh Sabkajida Sehar Woh Intzaar Tha Jisaka Yeh Woh Sehar Toh Nahi Yeh Woh Sehar Toh Nahi, Jisaki Aarju Leke Chale The Yaar Ki Mil Jaayegi Kahin Na Kahin Falak Ke Dasht Mein Taaron Ki Aakhari Manjil Kahin Toh Hoga Shabesust Mauj Ka Saahil Kahin Toh Jaake Rukega Safinaaye Gham-E-Dil Jawaan Lahu Ke Pursrar Shaahraao Se Jale Jo Yaar Toh Daaman Pe Kitane Haath Pade Dayaare Husn Ki Besabr Khaabgaaho Se Pukaarati Rahi Baahein, Badan Bulaate Rahe Bahot Ajij Thi Lekin Lekin Rukhe Sehar Ki Lagan Bahot Kari Tha Hansinaane Noor Ka Daaman Subuk Subuk Thi Tamanna, Dabi Dabi Thi Thakan Suna Hai Ho Bhi Chuka Hai Firaaq-E Julmatu Noor Suna Hai Ho Bhi Chuka Hai Visaale Manjilon Ka Aam Badal Chuka Hai Bahot Ehale Dard Ka Dastur Nishaake Vasl Halaalo Ajaabi Hijr Haraam Jigar Ki Aag, Najar Ki Umang Dil Ki Jalan, Kisi Pe Chha Rahi Hijra Ka Kuchh Asar Hi Nahi Kaha Se Aayi Nigaare Saba, Kidhar Ko Gayi Abhi Charaabe Sare Raah Ko Kuchh Khabar Hi Nahi Giraani Yeh Shab Mein Kabhi Kami Nahi Aayi Nijaate Dido Dil Ki Ghadi Nahi Aayi Chale Chalo Ki Woh Manjil Abhi Nahi Aayi ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ – This is not that long-looked-for break of day, Not that clear dawn in quest of which those comrades Set out, believing that in heaven’s wide void Somewhere must be the stars’ last halting-place, Somewhere the verge of night’s slow-washing tide, Somewhere an anchorage for the ship of heartache. When we set out, we friends, taking youth’s secret Pathways, how many hands plucked at our sleeves! From beauty’s dwellings and their panting casements Soft arms invoked us, flesh cried out to us; But dearer was the lure of dawn’s bright cheek, Closer her shimmering robe of fairy rays; Light-winged that longing, feather-light that toil. But now, word goes, the birth of day from darkness Is finished, wandering feet stand at their goal; Our leaders’ ways are altering, festive looks Are all the fashion, discontent reproved; – And yet this physic still on unslaked eye Or heart fevered by severance works no cure. Where did that fine breeze, that the wayside lamp Has not once felt, blow from — where has it fled? Night’s heaviness is unlessened still, the hour Of mind and spirit’s ransom has not struck; Let us go on, our goal is not reached yet.
Posted on: Fri, 19 Dec 2014 16:49:18 +0000