| motherland |
[Apr. 20th, 2007|05:06 pm] |
| [ | Tags | | | poetry | ] |
| [ | mood |
| |  anxious | ] |
There was a massive power cut last night, starting 7pm last night and there was no electricity when I left for work today. What does one do when that happens? Read poetry all night long. So, we sat and read Ghalib, Dorothy Parker, Elliot and many many more till 6 am in the morning. Very nice. And I was asked to do impromptu translations, you know how sucky those are right?
Was going through this one by Faiz, and was surprised to not find a translation. Here is my bad translation of the first verse.
nisaar mai.n terii galiyo.n ke ae watan, ki jahaa.N
chalii hai rasm ki koii na sar uThaa ke chale
jo koii chaahanewaalaa tawaaf ko nikale
nazar churaa ke chale, jism-o-jaa.N bachaa ke chale
Martyr I, for your streets oh! motherland, where
the custom is to not walk with one's head held high.
Where If a loved one goes to al-Ka`bah,
fears getting seen, fears ... life.
Dilliwaalon! lukhnow-waalon! help translate this one. |
|
|
![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
spo0nman's journal