Ghazal
आज आराइश-ए-गेसू-ए-दोता होती है
This ghazal portrays the captivating allure of the beloved and the lover's eternal, tragic devotion. It reflects on how the beloved's beauty ensnares the lover's soul, expressing a passion so enduring that even after death, the desire to touch the beloved's feet persists from beyond the grave.
Source: rekhta · HI
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1
आज आराइश-ए-गेसू-ए-दोता होती है
फिर मिरी जान गिरफ़्तार-ए-बला होती है
Today her curled twin tresses are adorned anew; once again my soul is caught in calamity's snare.
Today, the beloved's curled tresses are being adorned, and once again, my life is falling captive to misfortune.
2
शौक़-ए-पा-बोसी-ए-जानाँ मुझे बाक़ी है हनूज़
घास जो उगती है तुर्बत पे हिना होती है
The longing to kiss my beloved's feet still lingers in me; the grass that sprouts upon my grave turns to henna for them.
I still retain the desire to kiss the feet of my beloved; the grass that grows upon my grave turns into henna for their feet.
3
फिर किसी काम का बाक़ी नहीं रहता इंसाँ
सच तो ये है कि मोहब्बत भी बला होती है
A person is rendered good for nothing thereafter; truth be told, love too is a calamity.
A person is left fit for nothing after falling in love; the truth is that love too is a calamity.
4
जो ज़मीं कूचा-ए-क़ातिल में निकलती है नई
वक़्फ़ वो बहर-ए-मज़ार-ए-शोहदा होती है
Whatever new ground opens up in the slayer's street / Is consecrated at once for the martyrs' graves.
Whenever any new piece of land becomes available in the street of the slayer, it is consecrated and set aside for the graves of the martyrs.
5
जिस ने देखी हो वो चितवन कोई उस से पूछे
जान क्यूँ-कर हदफ़-ए-तीर-ए-क़ज़ा होती है
Let someone ask the one who has seen that piercing glance, how the soul becomes the target of the arrow of fate.
One should ask someone who has seen that glance how a person's life becomes the target of the arrow of death.
6
नज़्अ' का वक़्त बुरा वक़्त है ख़ालिक़ की पनाह
है वो साअ'त कि क़यामत से सिवा होती है
Dreadful is the hour of death's last agony—God grant refuge! / It is a moment far more harrowing than the Day of Judgment itself.
The moment of death's agony is a dreadful time, may God protect us; it is an hour that is even more severe and distressing than the Day of Judgment.
7
रूह तो एक तरफ़ होती है रुख़्सत तन से
आरज़ू एक तरफ़ दिल से जुदा होती है
On one hand, the soul takes leave of the body; on the other, desire parts from the heart.
On one side, the soul departs from the physical body, while on the other, desires and longings separate from the heart.
8
ख़ुद समझता हूँ कि रोने से भला क्या हासिल
पर करूँ क्या यूँही तस्कीन ज़रा होती है
I know full well that weeping brings no gain; / Yet what else can I do, it brings a little solace all the same.
I understand myself that weeping yields no benefit, but what else can I do when it gives me a little comfort anyway.
9
रौंदते फिरते हैं वो मजमा-ए-अग़्यार के साथ
ख़ूब तौक़ीर-ए-मज़ार-ए-शोहदा होती है
They wander trampling all underfoot, with a crowd of rivals in tow; What splendid honour upon the shrine of martyrs they bestow!
They roam around trampling over our resting place in the company of rivals; what a fine way to honor the shrine of martyrs!
10
मुर्ग़-ए-बिस्मिल की तरह लोट गया दिल मेरा
निगह-ए-नाज़ की तासीर भी क्या होती है
Like a slaughtered bird my heart writhed upon the ground; oh, what wondrous power a coquettish glance commands!
My heart writhed on the ground like a slaughtered bird; how remarkable is the effect of a beloved's coquettish glance.
11
नाला कर लेने दें लिल्लाह न छेड़ें अहबाब
ज़ब्त करता हूँ तो तकलीफ़ सिवा होती है
For God's sake, friends, do not intervene, let me lament and cry; when I suppress this grief, the agony only multiplies.
Friends, for God's sake do not disturb me and let me lament, because whenever I try to suppress my grief, the pain only multiplies.
12
जिस्म तो ख़ाक में मिल जाते हुए देखते हैं
रूह क्या जाने किधर जाती है क्या होती है
The body is seen turning to dust before our eyes; who knows where the soul departs, or what becomes of it?
We clearly see the body mingling into the dust, but no one knows where the soul departs or what becomes of it.
13
हूँ फ़रेब-ए-सितम-ए-यार का क़ाइल 'अकबर'
मरते मरते न खुला ये कि जफ़ा होती है
I remain spellbound by the sweet illusion of the beloved's cruelty, O Akbar; even as I lay dying, I never realized it was tyranny.
O Akbar, I am so captivated by the deception of the beloved's cruelty that even until my dying breath, I never realized it was oppression.
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