The Tomb of Amir Khusro His Poetry

The Tomb of Amir Khusro His Poetry
Originally uploaded by flickr photographerno1

Bahut Kathin Hai
Bahut Kathin hai dagar panghat ki,
Kaisay main bhar laaun madhva say matki?
Paniya bharan ko main jo gayi thi,
Daud jhapat mori matki patki.
Bahut kathin hai dagar panghat ki.
Khusrau Nijaam kay bal bal jayyiye
Laaj rakho moray ghoonghat pat ki.
Bahut kathin hai dagar panghat ki.

TRANSLATION-
The road to the Well is much too difficult,
How to get my pot filled?
When I went to fill the water,
In the furor, I broke my pot.
Khusrau has given his whole life to you Oh, Nijam.
Would you please take care of my veil (or self esteem),
The road to the well is much too difficult.


Chashmay mastay ajabay zulf daraazay ajabay,
Mai parastay ajabay fitna darazay ajabay,
Behray qatlam chu kushad taighe-nihaan sar basajud,
Oo ba-naazay ajabay mun be-neyaazay ajabay,
Turk taazay ajabay sho’bada baazay ajabay;
Kajkulahay ajabay arbada saazay ajabay;
Haq mago kalma-e kufr ast darein ja Khusrau;
Raaz daanay ajabay saaheb-e raaz-e ajabay.

Translation-

O wondrous ecstatic eyes, o wondrous long locks,
O wondrous wine worshipper, o wondrous mischievous sweetheart.
As he draws the sword, I bow my head in prostration so as to be killed,
O wondrous is his beneficence, o wondrous my submission.
O wondrous amorous teasing, o wondrous beguiling,
O wondrous tilted cap, o wondrous tormentor.
Do not reveal the Truth; in this world blasphemy prevails, Khusrau;
O wondrous source of mystery, o wondrous knower of secrets.
Mora Jobana (My Youth)

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…….

Translation-

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


March 19th, 2007