"Indian Song" (1904, before his European stay)
tarānah-e
hindī
published in bāñg-e darā
(the
sound of the bell) (1924)
from: kulliyāt-e iqbāl urdū
(lahore:
shaikh ghulam 'ali and sons publishers, 1973 (and later
reprints), p. 83
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1)
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sāre jahāñ se achchā
hindūsitāñ hamārā
ham bulbuleñ haiñ us kī vuh gulsitāñ hamārā |
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1)
better than
the whole world, our Hindustan
2) we are its nightingales, it [is] our garden |
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Here
it's to
be pronounced not 'gu-lis-taa;N' as usual, but
'gul-si-taa;N', to suit
the meter.
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2)
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ġhurbat meñ hoñ agar ham ,
rahtā hai dil vat̤an meñ
samjho vuhīñ hameñ bhī dil ho jahāñ hamārā |
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1) if
we would
be in 'an alien place', the heart remains in the
homeland
2) consider us too [to be] right there where our heart would be |
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ġharīb can mean either 'poor', or
'strange' (as in ʿajīb-o-ġharīb
); thus ġhurbat
is a state of foreignness, not merely living abroad
but with an extra
sense of alienation thrown in.
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3)
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parbat vuh sab se ūñchā ,
hamsāyah āsmāñ kā
vuh santarī hamārā , vuh pāsbāñ hamārā |
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1) that
tallest mountain, a neighbor [=shade-sharer] of the
sky
2) that [is] our sentry, that [is] our door-guard |
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The
English
'sentry' and the Persian pāsbāñ
form an
enjoyably balanced pair.
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4)
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godī meñ kheltī haiñ us
kī hazāroñ nadiyāñ
gulshan hai jin ke dam se rashk-e janāñ hamārā |
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1) in
[her]
lap play all her thousands of rivers
2) thanks to which our garden is the envy of Paradise |
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The word order of the second line: jin ke dam se hamārā gulshan rashk-e janāñ hai . |
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5)
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ay āb-rūd-e gangā ! vuh
din haiñ yād tujh ko ?
utarā tire kināre jab kāravāñ hamārā |
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1) oh
river
[=water-flowing] Ganges! do you remember those days?
2) when our caravan descended on your bank |
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The
first line
could also be read as a question, or an exclamation;
it's nicely
phrased so that it can appeal to almost any Indian's
historical vision.
In the second line, tire kināre
is oblique
because there's really a 'ghostposition' par
that's been colloquially omitted but still has its
effect. And it's tire instead
of tere as a
permissible spelling change, to suit the meter.
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6)
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mażhab nahīñ sikhātā
āpas meñ bair rakhnā
hindī haiñ ham , vat̤an hai hindūsitāñ hamārā |
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1)
religion
does not teach [us] to keep enmity with each other
2) we are Indian, our homeland is Hindustan |
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Until
very
recently, historically speaking, hindī
was much
more likely to mean 'pertaining to Hind' in general--
and thus
'Indian'-- than to refer to a particular modern
language.
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7)
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yūnān-o-miṣr-o-romā sab
miṭ gaʾe jahāñ se
ab tak magar hai bāqī nām-o-nishāñ hamārā |
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1)
Greece and
Egypt and Byzantium all became erased from the world
2) but until now our identity [=name and sign] lives on |
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Since miṭnā is an intransitive verb,
there's no agent
involved, and thus no indication of how they became
erased.
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8)
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kuchh bāt hai kih hastī
miṭtī nahīñ hamārī
ṣadiyoñ rahā hai dushman daur-e zamāñ hamārā |
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1)
there's
something, that our existence does not become erased
2) [for] centuries the cycle of time has remained our enemy |
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There's
another 'ghostposition' after ṣadiyoñ
, which
explains its oblique plural form. It's here pronounced
'.sad-yo;N', for
the meter.
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9)
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iqbāl ! koʾī maḥram
apnā nahīñ jahāñ meñ
maʿlūm kyā kisī ko dard-e nihāñ hamārā ! |
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1)
Iqbal,
there is no [intimate] friend of ours in the world
2) what does anyone know of our hidden pain? |
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The
closing-verse of a ghazal often contains the poet's
pen-name, and thus
has occasion to reflect on the rest of the poem, but
still, after this
very upbeat ghazal, the sudden bleakness comes as a
shock.
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