شبنم

گفتند فرود آی ز اوج مہ و پرویزبر خود زن و با بحر پر آشوب بیامیزبا موج در آویزنقش دگر انگیزتابندہ گہر خیز

‘Come down’, the voices said to me, ‘from your remote celestial heights. Recoil upon yourself and get embroiled with stormy ocean-tides.
Ride where the billow rides; and make new waves besides; arise as pearls whose sheen abides.’

من عیش ہم آغوشی دریا نخریدمآن بادہ کہ از خویش رباید نچشیدماز خود نرمیدمز آفاق بریدمبر لالہ چکیدم

I did not buy the luxury of losing myself in the sea; I did not taste the wine which robs you of your self-identity.
Another I refused to be: Said goodby to the sky; and chose the tulip’s company.

گل گفت کہ ہنگامہ مرغان سحر چیست؟این انجمن آراستہ بالای شجر چیست؟این زیر و زبر چیست؟پایان نظر چیست؟خارگل ترچیست؟

The tulip said, ‘O what is all this tumult of birdsong? And why do all those morning songsters on the treetops throng?
Why all this flitting up and down daylong? And should the rose to thorns belong? O is not this quite wrong?

تو کیستی و من کیم این صحبت ما چیست؟بر شاخ من این طایرک نغمہ سرا چیست؟مقصود نوا چیست؟مطلوب صبا چیست؟این کہنہ سرا چیست؟

‘Who are you and who am I and why do we thus consort? And wherefore are my branches all these singing birds’ resort?
What is their singing’s long and short? And what is in the breezes heart? What is this garden in which they disport ?’

گفتم کہ چمن رزم حیات ہمہ جائی استبزمی است کہ شیرازہ او ذوق جدائی استدم گرم نوائی استجان چہرہ گشائی استاین راز خدائی است

‘It is’, I said. ‘a battlefield of life’s war raging everywhere, a unity of many, each one separately self-aware.
To breathe is to sing songs of fire. The soul? The inner being’s self-exposure. This is the secret of God’s empire.

من از فلک افتادہ تو از خاک دمیدیاز ذوق نمود است دمیدی کہ چکیدیدر شاخ تپیدیصد پردہ دریدیبر خویش رسیدی

‘I have descended from the skies and you have grown up out of dust. They both are forms of self-display, my fall and your upthrust.
You writhed within a tree-stem first until your hundred veils were burst – and then you reached your being’s crest.

نم در رگ ایام ز اشک سحر ماستاین زیر و زبر چیست فریب نظر ماستانجم بہ بر ماستلخت جگر ماستنور بصر ماست

‘The sap that rises in the world’s veins is our morning tears; our own illusion are those upper and these lower spheres.
Part of our being are the stars, our kith and kin and our confreres: They are our eyes and we the seers.

در پیرہن شاہد گل سوزن خار استخار است ولیکن ز ندیمان نگار استاز عشق نزار استدر پھلوی یار استاینھم ز بہار است

‘Just like a needle in a damsel’s garment is the rose’s thorn: Close to the rose, its boon companion and with it twin.born.
All thin and wan like one lovelorn, though in the dear one’s bosom borne – another prank of the spring morn!

بر خیز و دل از صحبت دیرینہ بپردازبا لالۂ خورشید جہان تاب نظر بازبا اھل نظر سازچو من بفلک تازداری سر پرواز

Arise and re-engage your heart with friendships of the early days; and with the sun, the tulip of the sky, exchange a knowing gaze.
Consort with those with seeing eyes; like me take to celestial ways – have you the will to soar the skies ?’