Ghalib

Dile Nadan tujhe hoowa kia hey   

What has befallen you, O, the naive heart?

What is the remedy of this pain, after all?

While I crave, she abstains;

What happenstance is this, O God!

I too carry a tongue in the mouth;

To what purpose? Oh! Had you asked!

When there is none else besides you;                                                      

What is all this fuss, O God?

These fairy-faced people, what genre are they;

In their eyes and styles, what coquettish repertoire?

Why the amber- scented twist is part of the hair locks;

What is the mascara touch, with which the look is cast?

From where have descended the greenery and the flowers;

What are the clouds, what are the wind draughts?

We look forward to allegiance from those;

Who about the subject are completely at a loss?

Yes, the good done shall good accrue;

What else is the mendicant’s call!

I am ready to sacrifice my life for you;

Other orisons, I know nothing of.

Ghalib, I agree that it is nothing at all;

What bad, therefore, having it free of cost.

Iqbal

Chand aur Taray

Moon and Stars

Apprehending the approaching dawn;

The stars with the moon so chatted on.                                                      

“The sky-scape has remained unchanged

While we are tired of sparkling on and on.

Dawn or dusk we are tasked to go on;

On and on, go incessantly on.

Everything in the universe is restlessness entailed;

That which is called rest is a thing forlorn.

The stress of journey is incumbent upon all;

Stars, humans, trees, stones and all.

Will this journey ever draw to its close?

Will we ever get the destination to behold?

The moon responded, “O my buddies,

O the gleaners of the nocturnal field.

In motion lies the life of this world;

This is the ancient tradition of this turf.

The time-horse continues to gallop on,

Whipped up by the necessity thong.”

A sojourn is malapropos on this road;

Death lies concealed in the sojourn’s cloak.

Those opting to go, get in the lead;

Those choosing to stay get crushed under the feet.

Beauty is the outcome of this trek;

Seeded in love, it culminates in the beauteous best.

Faiz

Ab wohee hurf-e junoon sub ki zuban tehri ha;

Jo bhi chul nikli ha, who baat kahan teri ha.

The same passionate word is now on the tongue of all;

The one that gets going, when can such a word be stopped!                     

The thing that in deference to the cleric was hitherto profane;

The same sacrilegious thing has now been beatific ordained.

The news is hot that the cleric now goes elusively about;

In the alley of the idols the topic is being much talked about.

Laila’s cheek and Shireen’s lips were there and then;

 Wherever the fond look made a short sojourn.

Having once wafted, when the fragrance can be gotten to grips;

Having emerged from the heart, how a lament can remain confined to the lips.

The hand of the grabber as well as of the flower clincher has no sway;

The flower’s fragrance nor the nightingale’s song can be curtailed.

Coming round, the spring must have made a momentary stay;

Going away, the autumn did a fleeting sojourn make.

Faiz, the style of protest that we did in the cage invent,

 Has been adopted in the garden as a talking trend.