Hindustani Lyrics Part 7

When of the darkness of the grave I hear, The night of death, and all the pangs thereof, I reck not, for one thing alone I fear-- The night of separation from my Love.

NASIKH.

x.x.xVII.

Shall I or shall I not console my heart And win relief?

Or shall I sit in solitude apart Nursing my grief?

O hear, while of my life now nearly done Some sparks remain!

Soon I may be, who knows, O Cruel One, Speechless with pain.

How can I to the fisher speak my thought?

Her snares are set, My fish-like heart is by her lashes caught, As in a net.

Look on my sorrowful mien, O Love, and tell My hopelessness, None of the manifold troubles that befell Can I express.

Fair is the garden, Sauda, to thy view, More fair appears Her dwelling; let me all its ways bedew With happy tears.

SAUDA.

x.x.xVIII.

I am no singer rapt in ecstasy, Nor yet a sighing listener am I, I am the nightingale that used to sing In joy, but now am mute, remembering.

I know the drop within the ocean hides, But know not in what place my soul abides: I cannot read the hidden mystery-- Whence came I, whither go I, what am I.

My friends have paid due reverence at my grave, And held my dust as sacred, for I gave My humble life to the Beloved's sword, Killed by her beauty, martyred by her word.

I deemed life was tranquillity and rest, I find it but a never-ending quest; And I, who sat in quietude and peace, Toil on a journey that shall never cease.

SHAMSHAD.

x.x.xIX.

Repent not, for repentance is in vain, And what is done is done; What shouldst thou reck of me and all my pain?

For what is done is done.

They said to her--Behold him, he is dead!

How did he lose his life, unhappy one?

--O bury him deep in the grave, she said, For what is done is done.

This is the pain of love that I have caught, And what is done is done; A thousand remedies avail me naught, And what is done is done.

For love I gave the honour of my name, And Good and Evil are to me as one; Let all the world chastise me with its blame, For what is done is done.

The dust of Taban we could find no more, But yet nor rest nor respite hath he won; His breath, his soul, floats round thee as before, And--what is done is done.

TABAN.

XL.

O Lovely One, when to the ravished sight Thou wilt unveil that radiant face of thine, Each atom of the worlds, catching thy light, Reflecting thee, bright as a sun shall shine.

Walk not, my flower, within the garden close, Lest thou should give the bulbul new distress; For at thy glance each blossom turns a rose To lure him with her cruel loveliness.

Victorious One, thou hast unsheathed thy sword, The scimitar of thy beauty gleams again, So over all thy lovers thou art Lord, Holding dominion in the hearts of men.

Art thou serene and calm and unafraid When thou considerest thy tyranny?

Think of the reckoning that shall be made Between thy heart and mine at Judgment Day.

WALI.

XLI.

O ask not frigid Piety to dwell In the same house with Youth and warm Desire; It were as idle as if one should tell Water to be a comrade of the Fire.

O say not only that the Loved One left My lonely heart, and fled beyond recall; But I of rest and patience am bereft, And losing Her I am deprived of all.

Take heed, O Hunter, though within thy net Thou hold this bird, my soul, with many bands, I struggle sore, for Freedom lures me yet, And may escape from out thy cruel hands.

YAKRANG.

XLII.