Urdu Language Writers

"The current ways of life will soon depart from earth, New culture, new modes of life will now take their birth. The beauty will adore itself in a new style, The coiling locks and curling hair will now fall in dearth. The women will discard the robes that confine and bind, No longer the beauteous main behind the veil shall lurk. The wind that blows indicates the birth of seasons new, New flowers will bloom on earth, nightingales forget their mirth. Imitators of Western music will reign supreme, Their songs will be out of tune, a cacophonous burst. Past glories will fine a mention nowhere on earth, Glorious tales of name and fame inside the books will rust. But why are you perturbed, Akbar, about the changing times? You and I will cease to be, and mingle with the dust."

"The philosopher deep in debate cannot find God, He is untangling the string but cannot find where to begin!"

"فلسفی کو بحث کے اندر خدا ملتا نہیں ڈور کو سلجھا رہا ہے، پر سِرا ملتا نہیں"

"While we slave for food as clerks. Our hearts bleed for Persians and Turks."

"Those who couldn't bear the weight of precious pearls and jades, Those whom a gold jhoomar seemed a weary weight, Those who couldn't carry the mantle, though of muslin made, Those who found the gauze veil hard to keep in place, These delicate dames, alas, are made to carry loads, They trudge along a few steps, then founder on the road. Those who felt irked with garlands, so slim they were and frail, Those who couldn't sleep at night with hands henna-laved; Those who whould lose their sleep at the slightest cause, If their sheet was slightly ruffled, couldn't sleep at all; Even the luxury of a pillow is to them denied, With a stone beneath their head, they would spend the night. Thus demented and dismayed, I'm forced to seek the wilds, With a stone to break my head, to beat my breast and die. Why shouldn't Azurda wander in the raging wilds. When he finds Sahbai the poet, without a fault, crucified!"

"“The sudden swelling of the rivers, and the absence of the King with his army, gave Venkutputty leisure to muster the whole of his forces, which amounted to one hundred thousand men. The leaders were Yeltumraj, Goolrung Setty, and Munoopraj, who marched to recover Gundicota from the hands of Sunjur Khan. Here the enemy were daily opposed by sallies from the garrison, but they perservered in the siege; when they heard that Moortuza Khan, with the main army of the Mahomedans, had pentrated as far as the city of Krupa, the most famous city of that country, wherein was a large temple. This edifice the Mahomedans destroyed as far as practicable, broke the idol, and sacked the city…”"

"I am drunk in your love, Lala; give me the cup to drink from your lips. I am drunk with your love, and that love gives me excitement."

"The spot on your forehead is a sign of great good fortune. The pearl in your ear is the light of Venus and Jupiter."

"Without my love, I have no taste for wine. Without my love, what use this life of mine?"

"“The King determined to spare neither men nor money to carry on the war against the Hindoos: he accordingly directed Etibar Khan Yezdy, the Hawaldar of Condbeer (henceforth called Moortuza Nuggur), to collect all the troops under his command, with orders to march towards Beejanuggur, and to lay in ashes all the enemy’s towns in his route… Etibar Khan now proceeded to the town of Calistry, which he reached after a month’s march from Golconda. Here he destroyed the Hindoo idols, and ordered prayers to be read in the temples. These edifices may well he compared in magnificence with the buildings and paintings of China, with which they vie in beauty and workmanship. Having given a signal example of the Mahomedan power in that distant country, the Hindoos did not dare to interrupt his return…”"

"Shedding tears we spend the night in this deepening dark, Our day is but a long struggle against an uphill path, Not a single moment goes when we don't bewail our lot, Lo! we cast a lingering look on these doors and walls. Fare thee well, my countrymen, we are going afar! We wish you well, O friends, leave you to His care, And entrust our Qaiser Bagh to the blowing air, While we give our tender heart to terror and despair. Fare thee well, my countrymen, we are going afar! I am betrayed by my friends, whom should I excuse? Except God the gracious, I have no refuge, I can't escape exile, under any excuse. Lo, we cast a lingering look on the doors and wells, Fare thee well, my countrymen, we are going afar! I have been told this much too, ah! the scourage of time! The servant calls his master 'mad,' a travesty of the mind. As for me, I cannoy help, but rot in alien climes. Lo, we cast a lingering look on these doors and walls, Fare thee well, my countrymen, we are gong afar! This is the cause of my regret, to whom should I complain? What wondrous goods of mine are subjected to disdain, My exile has raised a storm in the whole domain. Lo we cast a lingering look on the doors and walls, Fare thee well, my countrymen, we are going afar! You cannot help but suffer, O heart, the sharp strings of grief, They didn't spare even the things essential for the mourning meets, In the scorching summer heat, I've no cover or sheet. Akhtar now departs from all his friends and mates, There is little time or need to dwell upon my fate, Save, O God, my countrymen from the dangers lying in wait! Lo, we cast a lingering look on these doors and walls, Fare thee well, my countrymen, we are going afar!"

"On one side is the call of Christ, on the other is death, We are caught in a conflict, hard to resolve. Having received many a wound, for more of wounds he craves, Mark the courage of helpless Bismil, how he suffers unfazed!"

"We are now raring to die for our country's sake Let's see how much of strength the assassin can display! O traveller on the path of love, do not drop mid-way, It is the distance of the goal that glorifies the chase. It is the distance of the goal that glorifies the chase. Standing by the gallows the hangman makes a call, Come, if there be any, by the martyr's zeal enthralled. We'll tell you all, O sky, wait till he time arrives, How can we at this stage, our secret plans unveil? O martyrs in the nation's cause, kudos to your sacrifice, Even in the enemy they talk of you with praise. Fired by patriotic fervour, many a maddened youth. Has gathered at the crossing, itching for the cross. Why are they mute and silent? no whisper, no talk, Everyone that I see has got his lips locked."

"Ever centred in my thoughts, I resemble you alot. O, partner of the yesteryear, This year, I'm alone, alas! All day long in your lane, I, the hurtful stones amass. Who can look me in the face? I'm but your looking glass. You are the bustling street of life, I, the lonesome jungle path. The coming season shall weep for me, I'm the season's dying draught. In my wave lies my bane, I'm a river, athirst withal."

"شغل بہتر ہے عشق بازی کا کیا حقیقی و کیا مجازی کا"

"Not for nothing have I fallen for "Rekhta" verse, The darling of my heart was Deccan domicile."

"خُوگر نہیں کچھ یوں ہی ہم ریختہ گوئی کے معشوق جو اپنا تھا باشندۂ دکن تھا"

"Soul-refreshing are your lips, Breath of Christ are your lips. The god of beauty, with nectar divine Has charged the goblet of your lips. Wisdom, philosophy, deep truths, Inform the utterance of your lips. With ruby-pen the lovers of your lines, Inscribe the message of your lips. The grass, the foliage, and the bloom, Forever crave to kiss your lips. My palate and tongue get honey-drenched, Whensoever I mention your lips. What an treat for Walis tongue, Morn and eve to praise your lips!"

"فانی ؔ ہم تو جیتے جی وہ میت ہیں بے گور و کفن غربت جس کو راس نہ آئی اور وطن بھی چُھوٹ گیا"

"Frustration-foiled, all desires quit the lane of heart, Depression drowned my mind and soul, hope stood dissolved. Who has arrived, spring or death? Why do they open the prison gate? Has a manic made to the cage, or a prisoner jumped the wall? How to inquire about my hem, or talk about my frantic hand? Long past I lost control of the reins of my heart. Alone I reached the goal of love, denuded of desire, Every comrade fell en route, worn out at last. Fani, I'm a living corpse, untombed, undraped, Unwelcome in the alien land, exiled from home and hearth."

"For years have I held converse with someone in my thoughts, For long has a pictured visage lodged within my heart. I had held it all through as dear as life, My desire will weep for me for years in the burial yard. I too once drank the draughts from the fount of life, I too slept for long in peace, sheltered by the flask. For long did I stroll about in gardens and groves, For long could I smell my rose in the roses of the park. Such a sensitive being am I, it will cause my death, For years shall that shrew regret having hurt my heart. Even if reduced to ashes, like the wind-borne dust, For years I'll eddy around questing someone lost."

"A responsibility of great art is to capture the zeitgeist in words with such expertise that you cannot understand that period without ignoring it. In the West, T.S. Eliot’s ‘The Wasteland’ is the best example of this. If anyone made migration a civilizational experience in Urdu poetry, it was no one except Kazmi. Surprisingly, an acclaimed scholar like Shamsur Rahman Faruqi, ignoring this aspect, spoke his mind by labelling Nasir as merely a poet of the tragic tone of love and passion. The nostalgia of Nasir is not personal, but civilisational. Sample a few verses of a ghazal from his diwan (collection) and Barg-e-Nai (‘Melody of the Flute’). Does this attitude feel like it springs from the failure of personal love."

"No one in the world has (ever) laughed, the least bit without weeping at the same time."

"It's in your nature to accept advice readily so don't fail in reaping benefit through me, This collection of our thought is open to all: so, read it and satisfy yourself completely."

"Beauty, which the mirror of creation was beautifying, with a hundred thousand suns each atom caressing, despite its great glory was behind the unseen's veil... it did not know itself until humanity was blossoming."

"In this sea where rise up storms of 'me' and 'we', some of the population find escaping not so easy. No one's should be burdened by carrying another, every wave is a bridge, to be crossing over...'me'."

"Did you ever surfeit a drinker to this heart? Bring to my lips, Saqi, lips of the purple flask. Scent-like, it cannot lie concealed behind the veil, The beauty which has tasted the delight of being unveiled. Brief is our span of life, fleeter than the lightning flash, Fated are we to finish in haste each assigned task. Whosoever I approach to unfold my heart, Comes forth at once with his own tale of woe. You haven't seen, O Dard, the world's destructive might, Flask-like it mingles in dust each drinker's blood."

"دوستو، دیکها تماشا یہاں کا بس تم رہو خوش ہم تو اپنے گھر چلے۔"

"My friends, we have seen enough of this play. We are going home, you can stay."

"جگ میں کوئی نہ ٹک ہنسا ہوگا کہ نہ ہنسنے میں رو دِیا ہوگا"

"The pledge that you and I have made, you may or mayn't recall, The pledge, that is, to love till death, you may or mayn't recall. The joys once bestowed on me, those kindness galore, I remember every bit, you may or mayn't recall. Those new complaints, grumblings new, those delicious tales, That getting cross without a cause, you may or mayn't recall.If chanced we to get together, to reaffirm our faith, How we complained of our unkind kin, you may or mayn't recall. If there was aught that annoyed your heart, I always let it go unsaid, you may or mayn't recall. We too had once each other loved, and frequently did meet. We too were once intimate, you may or mayn't recall. Your getting cross on the union night, spurning all my pleas, Your insistent "no" to everything, you may or mayn't recall. Whom you counted as your friend, faithful whom you thought, I am the same suffering Momin, you may or mayn't recall."

"تم میرے پاس ہوتے ہو گویا جب کوئی دوسرا نہیں ہوتا"

"I feel as if you are with me, When company I have none."

"عمر ساری تو کٹی عشقِ بُتاں میں مومنؔ آخری وقت میں کیا خاک مسلماں ہوں گے"

"Kneeling to the idols, Momin, you have spent your life, How futile to turn a Muslim when your end arrives!"

"Love, do not ask me for that love again. Once I thought life, because you lived, a prize— The time's pain nothing, you alone were pain; Your beauty kept earth's springtime's from decay, My universe held only your bright eyes— If I won you, fate would be at my feet. It was not true, all this, but only wishing; Our world knows other torments than of love, And other happiness than a fond embrace. Dark curse of countless ages, savagery."

"Last night your lost memory so came into the heart As spring comes in the wilderness quietly, As the zephyr moves slowly in deserts, As rest comes without cause to a sick man."

"I had to listen when my friends told me to wash my eyes with blood Everything at once was tangled in blood — each face, each idol, red everywhere. Blood swept over the sun, washing away its gold. The moon erupted with blood, its silver extinguished."

"Human ingenuity, science and industry have made it possible to provide each one of us everything we need to be comfortable provided these boundless treasures of nature and production are not declared the property of a greedy few but are used for the benefit of all of humanity… However, this is only possible if the foundations of human society are based not on greed, exploitation and ownership but on justice, equality, freedom and the welfare of everyone… I believe that humanity which has never been defeated by its enemies will, after all, be successful; at long last, instead of wars, hatred and cruelty, the foundation of humankind will rest on the message of the great Persian poet Hafez Shiraz: ‘Every foundation you see is faulty, except that of Love, which is faultless."

"Faiz’s verses were deeply subversive. And they seemed directed not only at Zia the oppressor but also at those who proclaimed themselves the guardians of sacred places: the Saudis. There were screams of Inqilab zindabad at the concert: long live the revolution, in Urdu, long live the fight against Zia. A live recording of the song was smuggled out, and copies made on cassette tapes were passed around secretly and copied again until they had traveled well beyond the country’s borders. The Pakistan that Faiz had known was dying. So was the Beirut he had loved and left. The Lebanon of Musa Sadr and Hussein al-Husseini was no more."

"Faiz’s revolutionary poetry was still banned by the regime, but one woman, a singer, defied Zia. It was always the women of Pakistan who gave the dictator the most grief. A year after the poet’s death, Iqbal Bano, a national icon, obtained rare permission to hold a concert in Lahore. There were some things even Zia couldn’t refuse. And there was a way of getting around the ban of singing and dancing: asking for permission to hold a “cultural event.” Bano wore a sari, a dress forbidden under Zia both because it was associated with enemy India and because it showed a woman’s midriff. And then she lent her voice, powerful but melodious, controlled but emotional, to the most defiant of all of Faiz’s verses, written in 1979 in protest at Zia’s authoritarian Islam. Hum dekhenge, she sang, we shall witness. For ten long minutes she sang the verses as the emotions of the crowd of fifty thousand Pakistanis rose and swelled with her, applause punctuating every pause."

"One of Pakistan’s greatest Urdu poets of the twentieth century, Faiz Ahmed Faiz, had spent the first few years of Zia’s time in power in prison and then in exile in Beirut, preferring the chaos of Lebanon’s civil war to the darkness of repression. An uncle and mentor of Taseer, the leftist poet of love and revolution had embraced the intellectual effervescence of Lebanon and found kindred spirits among the Palestinian revolutionaries sitting on café terraces during cease-fires. But the Palestinians kept attracting worse and worse Israeli retaliation and, in the summer of 1982, Israeli tanks reached Beirut. Faiz and his wife were forced to flee and return to Pakistan. He died in his home country a month before Zia’s referendum, perhaps in anticipation of the unbearable realization that the general had found a way, yet again, to stay in power."

"If ink and pen are snatched from me, shall I Who have dipped my finger in my heart's blood complain— Of if they seal my tongue, when I have made A mouth of every round link of my chain?"

"If what the eye sees does not rankle in the heart Sweet is the flow of life in travel spent."

"The happiness of the world is nothing for me for my heart is left with no feeling besides blood."

"It is not praised if you are the only one to understand what you speak interesting is the situation when you speak and the others understand."

"Just like a child's play this world appears to me Every single night and day, this spectacle I see."

"Ghalib, we are from the sacred land of Turan, Undoubtedly we are of glorious lineage, We are of Turkish descent And the chiefs of the tribe were our forefathers, We are Arabs, belonging to the tribe of Turks And in perfection we are ten times better than the moon."

"The prison of life and the bondage of grief are one and the same Before the onset of death, why should man expect to be free of grief?"

"The object of my worship lies beyond perception's reach; For men who see, the Ka'aba is a compass, nothing more.""