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SRF's translation comes, with his permission, from Mir Taqi Mir: Selected Ghazals and Other Poems, translated by Shamsur Rahman Faruqi. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2019. Murty Classical Library of India; Sheldon Pollock, General Editor. Ghazal 25, pp. 69-71.
FWP:
(inspired by SRF's translation)
(1) Is the caged Nightingale wingless and featherless, or am I?
Does the rose have such a torn-up liver, or do I?(2) Does the morning sun rise with such light, or do you?
Does the dew bear such wet eyes, or do I?(3) If I live, I will do what the Nightingale pledged.
This autumn, without the rose-- will he die, or will I?(4) Here's the sword, here's the basin, here am I to be slain.
Who plays so lightly with his life as I?(5) You attack me with swords; I will keep my mouth shut.
Does anyone in the world let this pass, other than I?(6) In this search, the ruination-- what more can I say?
The breeze has not gone from door to door as much as I.(7) When you went and got ensnared somewhere, news came to me.
Who else keeps as much track of you, oh heart, as I?(8) I live, and I weep-- it's a much-loved 'liver-piece', Mir!
Have you heard of any such 'minced-liver' man, as I?
Zahra Sabri:
Zahra Sabri is a special guest translator for this site.
(1) Is the imprisoned nightingale more wingless or featherless, or am I?
The rose hardly has a liver more tattered than do I(2) Is it the morning sun that emerges with such radiance, or you?
Is this damp eye held by the dew, or I?(3) If I live on, I will show up the nightingale’s claim
Without the rose, this autumn, will he lie dead, or I?(4) Here is the sword, here the basin, and here, worthy of beheading, is me
Who is there who trifles with his life more rashly than I?(5) You slash me with your sword, and I remain struck dumb
Does anyone in the world blink at such things more than I?(6) In this quest, even further ruin – then what can I say?
The morning breeze has not been driven to such drifting as I(7) When you went and became entangled somewhere, I felt it right here
Who is there, oh heart, who keeps abreast of your news as much as I?(8) I live, and weep: Mir, it is a precious fragment of liver
Have you ever heard anyone make mincemeat of their liver as do I?