S. R. Faruqi:

(1) The things she used to do to attract me--where are they now?
Bow and arrow in her hands, my breast for target practice now.

(2) The down is on your cheeks and you hide your face, but why?
In the name of God, you're no longer a boy, you're a young adult now.

(3) The pity of it! Flowers bloomed here in this garden and fell and died right before my eyes.
A flood of spring showers flows down from my eyes now.

(4) The jinn, the angels, the earth, the heavens, all made good their escape.
It's now my frail heart--and the colossal weight of love.

[A favorite theme with poets from classical Persian to classical Urdu, this is a remote illusion to the Qur'anic verse that God offered his knowledge (amanat, a trust) to the earth and the skies, but they refused. Man accepted the burden (see Qur'an 33:72). The poet emphasizes man's loneliness in the universe.]

(5) Her sword was out in the open; there were many blessed with good fortune.
When I bent my neck, the cry went out, "There's amnesty for all who remain now!"

(6) My pale face is proof of the grief I had hidden.
So whatever is in my heart is open on my face now.

(7) Come and see me weeping blood just before the breath of dawn.
It's just like the red flourish of the dusk at evening--that's the picture here now.

(8) The bulbul wailed and wailed so that he left the memory of his manner with all of us.
He is our tongue in the garden now.

(9) It's years since he went away, and I miss him still.
May Mir's memory be beloved. May he be happy wherever he is now.

 

FWP:

(inspired by SRF's translation)

(1) That attractive power she used to use-- where is it now?
She uses me my breast for target practice now!

(2) Now that there's down on your cheeks, why hide your face?
For heavens sake, you're not a child-- you're a young man, now!

(3) Alas, to see how the fallen flowers have rained down in that garden!
The spring flood flows from my eyes, now.

(4) Jinn and angels, earth and sky, all took their leave.
There's only the heavy burden of passion, and the frail heart, now.

(5) Her sword had come out-- people found a happy fate.
When I bowed my head, I heard, 'There's an amnesty now'.

(6) My pale face reveals my hidden grief.
Whatever is in my heart shows on my face, now.

(7) Before the first breath of dawn, look at my weeping of blood!
The way the twilight-redness blossoms -- here, it's like that, now.

(8) We all remembered his lamenting, as he left--
The Nightingale is our tongue in the garden, now.

(9) For years he's been gone-- but he's not forgotten.
May Mir's memory stay green! May he be happy where he is now.

 

Zahra Sabri:

Zahra Sabri is a special guest translator for this site.

(1) The ways she used to entice us – where are they now?
The bow and arrow is in her hand, my breast is a target now

(2) So bashful in hiding your face at first sign of down on your cheeks – what’s the reason?
You’re not a boy anymore, by God -- you’re a youth now!

[Note: Mir uses wordplay – the Urdu word ‘wajh’ means not just ‘reason’, but also ‘face’]

(3) What fine flowers of this garden have withered and fallen, as I watched – oh!
Springtime’s flood flows from my eyes now

(4) The jinns and angels, the earth and skies, all ducked out
There’s the heavy burden of Love, and only our frail heart now

(5) Her sword became unsheathed – people achieved good fortune
And when I lowered my neck, I heard, “There’s an amnesty, now”

(6) My paleness of colour is testimony to my hidden grief
Whatever exists in my heart is plain from my face now

(7) Look at my weeping of blood right before morning breaks
The way twilight blossoms, that’s the view here now

(8) It moaned with such pathos that it left its memory with all of us
The nightingale in the garden is our voice now

(9) It’s been years since he left, yet he can’t be forgotten
Blessed be his memory, may he thrive wherever he is now