2. Faiz Ahmed Faiz (Punjabi, Urdu: born 1911, died 1984) was a renowned Pakistani
poet, and one of the most famous poets of the Urdu language. Faiz was a member of the
Anjuman Tarraqi Pasand Mussanafin-e-Hind (Progressive Writers' Movement) and an
avowed Marxist. In 1962, he was awarded the Lenin Peace Prize by the Soviet Union
Early life:
Faiz Ahmed Faiz was born in the village of Sialkot in Punjab during British rule. He was
the son of Sultan Mohammad Khan and his youngest wife Fatima.
Following the Muslim tradition in South Asia, at an early age Faiz was sent to the Masjid
(Mosque) to be oriented to the basics of religious studies by Maulvi Muhammad Ibrahim
Mir Sialkoti. He went on to the Scotch Mission School, Sialkot, for academic education
and after matriculation joined Murray College, Sialkot for intermediate study and
graduation. His most influential teachers were Professor Yousuf Saleem Chishti, who
taught Urdu, and Shams-ul-Ullamah (a title meaning "Sun of Scholars") Syed Mir Hasan,
who taught Arabic. Hasan had also taught the renowned philosopher, poet, and politician
of South Asia, Allama Dr. Muhammad Iqbal. Faiz acquired a post-graduate degree from
the Government College, Lahore, a Master of Arts in English Literature, and he also
attended the Oriental College, Lahore, where he obtained another master's degree in
Arabic Literature.
Career:
Faiz started a branch of Progressive Writers' Movement in Punjab in 1936. Also he was a
Member and Secretary of this branch. Faiz was also an Editor of Mahanama (Monthly)
Adab-e-Lateef (1938-1942 AD). Faiz became a lecturer in English at M. A. O. College,
Amritsar in 1935 and then at Hailey College of Commerce, Lahore. He briefly joined the
British Indian Army and was promoted to the rank of Lieut. Colonel in 1944. He resigned
from the Army in 1947 and returned to Lahore to become the first editor in chief of the
Pakistan Times, a paper started by Mian Iftikharuddin. In 1959 he was appointed as
Secretary, Pakistan Arts Council and worked in that capacity till 1962.
Returning from London in 1964 he settled down in Karachi and was appointed as
Principal at Abdullah Haroon College. He was editor of the monthly magazine Adabe-
Latif from 1947 to 1958. Faiz distinguished himself as a journalist and was editor of the
Pakistan Times, the Urdu newspaper Imroze and the weekly Lail-o-Nihar. In the 1965
war between India & Pakistan he worked in an honorary capacity in the Department of
Information and during that period Faiz was very much close to the senior officers, like
Syed Fakhruddin Balley. In exile he acted as Editor of the magazine Lotus in Moscow,
London and Beirut.
Faiz wrote poems that opposed the bloodshed occurring in what became Bangladesh
during the conflict with Pakistan.
3. Communism:
In a certain period of his life, Faiz was a communist and was associated with the
Communist Party of Pakistan. Faiz spent much of the 1950s and 1960s promoting the
cause of communism in Pakistan. During the time when Faiz was editor of The Pakistan
Times, one of the leading newspapers of 50s, he lent editorial support to CP. He was also
involved in the circle lending support to military personnel (e.g. Major General Akbar
Khan. This involvement with CP and Major General Akbar Khan's coup plan lead to his
imprisonment later.
Sufism:
Faiz was an avowed supporter of Sufism. He had close relations with several Sufi saints
of his time. He was all time favourite of Baba Malang Sahib, a Sufi of Lahore , Ashfaq
Ahmad khan, Syed Fakhruddin Balley, Wasif Ali Wasif and other renowned sufies. Once
when he was asked how can he compares Sufis with socialist comrades, he replied,
"They(Sufis) are the real comrades". He is also credited for coining the term Ana al-
Haqq in political sense.
Imprisonment:
Faiz was charged with complicity in a failed coup attempt known as the Rawalpindi
Conspiracy Case and was sentenced to four years' imprisonment in 1951. The jail term
gave him a first-hand experience of the harsh realities of life, and provided him with the
much-needed solitude to think and write poetry. Two of his greatest works Dast-e-Saba
and Zindan-Nama were products of this period of imprisonment.
In the 1930s Faiz Ahmed Faiz married Alys Faiz, a British woman. They had two
daughters Moneeza and Salima Hashmi Salima is an eminent artist while Moneeza is a
TV producer. Salima and Moneeza are married to brothers Shoaib Hashmi and Humair
Hashmi who are noted media personalities in their own right.
Translations:
Faiz Ahmed Faiz's poetry has been translated into many languages, from English to
Russian. A Balochi Poet, Mir Gul Khan Nasir, who was also a friend of Faiz Ahmed Faiz
translated his book "Sar-e-Wadi-e-Seena" into Balochi with the title "Seenai Keechag
aa". This work of Faiz was translated by Gul Khan while he (Gul Khan) was in jail
during Bhutto's regime for opposing the government's policies. It was published in 1980,
after Zia-ul-Haq toppled Bhutto's government and freed all the political prisoners of his
(Bhutto's) regime.
Faiz Ahmed Faiz, himself, has also translated works of notable poets from other
languages into Urdu. In his book "Sar-i Waadi-i Seena" there are some translations of the
famous poet of Dagestan, Rasul Gamzatov. "Deewa", a Balochi poem of Mir Gul Khan
Nasir was also translated into Urdu by Faiz.
4. Original Urdu
Raat yunh dil mein teri khoee hui yaad aayee
Jaise veeraaney mein chupkey sey bahaar aa jaye
Jaisey sehra on mein howley se chaley baadey naseem
Jaisey beemaar ko bey wajhey Qaraar aa jaaye
English Translation
Last night, your lost memories crept into my heart
as spring arrives secretly into a barren garden
as a cool morning breeze blows slowly in a desert
as a sick person feels well, for no reason.
am being accused of loving you, that is all
It is not an insult, but a praise, that is all
My heart is pleased at the words of the accusers
O my dearest dear, they say your name, that is all
For what I am ridiculed, it is not a crime
My heart's useless playtime, a failed love, that is all
I haven't lost hope, but just a fight, that is all
The night of suffering lengthens, but just a night, that is all
In the hand of time is not the rolling of my fate
In the hand of time roll just the days, that is all
A day will come for sure when I will see the truth
My beautiful beloved is behind a veil, that is all
5. The night is young, Faiz start saying a Ghazal
A storm of emotions is raging inside, that is all
(Prison Journal)
Original Urdu
tum jo naa aa'e the to har chiiz vahii thii kih jo hai
aasmaaN hadd-e-nazar, raahguzar raahguzar, shiishaah-e-mai,
shiishaah-e-mai
aur ab shiishaah-e-mai, raahguzar, rang-e-falak
rang hai dil kaa mere, "khoon-e-jigar hone tak"
champaa'i rang kabhii, raahat-e-diidaar kaa rang
sur'ma'ii rang kabhii, saa'at-e-bezaar kaa rang
zard pattoN kaa xas-o-xaar kaa rang
surkh phuuloN kaa, dahakte hu'e gulzaar kaa rang
zahar kaa rang, lahuu rang. shab-e-taar kaa rang
aasmaaN, rahguzar, shiishaah-e-mai
koii bhiigaa hu'aa daaman, ko'ii dukhtii hu'ii rag
ko'ii har lahzaah badaltaa hu'aa aa'iinaah hai
ab jo aa'e ho to Thahro kih koii rang, koii rut ko'ii shai
ek jagah par Thahre
phir se ik baar har ik chiiz vahii ho ke jo hai
aasmaaN hadd-e-nazar, rahguzar rahguzar, shiishaah-e-mai,
shiishaah-e-mai
6. English Translation by Naomi Lazard
Before you came things were just what they were:
the road precisely a road, the horizon fixed,
the limit of what could be seen,
a glass of wine was no more than a glass of wine.
With you the world took on the spectrum
radiating from my heart: your eyes gold
as they open to me, slate the color
that falls each time I lost all hope.
With your advent roses burst into flame:
you were the artist of dried-up leaves, sorceress
who flicked her wrist to change dust into soot.
You lacquered the night black.
As for the sky, the road, the cup of wine:
one was my tear-drenched shirt,
the other an aching nerve,
the third a mirror that never reflected the same thing.
Now you are here again—stay with me.
This time things will fall into place;
the road can be the road,
the sky nothing but sky;
the glass of wine, as it should be, the glass of wine.
7. Dont ask me for the same love, my sweetheart
I thought that life was radiant because of you
Why complain of worldly woes, once in your love-affliction
Your countenance brings eternity to the youth of spring
What else is there in the world but for the beauty of your eyes
If you were mine, my destiny would surrender to me
This was not so, only my wish for it to be
There are sufferings in the world other than the suffering of love
There are pleasures other than the delight of our union
Dark, heinous spells of uncountable centuries.
Woven into rich silk and precious brocades
being sold in every corner, bodies,
covered in dirt, drenched in blood.
Bodies, burning in hot ovens of disease
Pus seeping from open, lacerating wounds.
My sight returns to this as well, I am helpless
Your beauty is heart-warming still, but I am helpless
There are sufferings in the world other than the suffering of love
There are pleasures other than the delight of our union
Dont ask me for the same love, my sweetheart!
Each star a rung,
night comes down the spiral
staircase of the evening.
The breeze passes by so very close
as if someone just happened to speak of love.
In the courtyard,
8. the trees are absorbed refugees
embroidering maps of return on the sky.
On the roof,
the moon - lovingly, generously -
is turning the stars
into a dust of sheen.
From every corner, dark-green shadows,
in ripples, come towards me.
At any moment they may break over me,
like the waves of pain each time I remember
this separation from my lover.
This thought keeps consoling me:
though tyrants may command that lamps be smashed
in rooms where lovers are destined to meet,
they cannot snuff out the moon, so today,
nor tomorrow, no tyranny will succeed,
no poison of torture make me bitter,
if just one evening in prison
can be so strangely sweet,
if just one moment anywhere on this earth.
Someone is at the door again, my weeping heart, no, no one
Perhaps a passerby, who will go somewhere else
The night has passed, waiting, the star-dust is settling
Sleepy candle-flames are flickering in distant palaces
Every pathway has passed into sleep, tired of waiting
Alien dust has smudged all traces of footsteps
Blow out the candles, let the wine and cup flow
9. Close and lock your sleepless doors
No one, no one will come here now.
Dil e man Musafir e man
Meray dil meray musafir
hua phir sey hukm sadir
k watan badar hon hum tum
dein gali gali sadain
karein rukh nagar nagar ka
ke suraagh koi paein
kisi yar e nama bar ka
har ik ajnabi sey poochein
jo pata tha apney ghar ka
sar e kooey nashenayan
hamein din sey raat karna
kabhi iss sey baat karna
kabhi us sey baat karna
tumhein kya kahoon key kya hey
shab e gham buri balaa hey
hamein yeh bhi tha ghaneemat
jo koi shumaar hota
hamein kya bura tha marna
agar eik baar hota
10. English translation:
My heart, my fellow traveler
It has been decreed again
That you and I be exiled,
go calling out in every street,
turn to every town.
To search for a clue
of a messenger from our Beloved.
To ask every stranger
the way back to our home.
In this town of unfamiliar folk
we drudge the day into the night
Talk to this stranger at times,
to that one at others.
How can I convey to you, my friend
how horrible is a night of lonliness *
It would suffice to me
if there were just some count
I would gladly welcome death
if it were to come but once.
On the far horizon waved some flicker of light
My heart, a city of suffering, awoke in a state of dream
My eyes, turning restless, still dreaming,
the morning, dawning in this vacuous abode of separation
In the wine-cup of my heart, I poured my morning wine
Mixing in the bitterness of the past, the poison of the present
11. On the far horizon waved some flicker of light
far from the eye, a precursor to some morning
Some song, some scent, some unbelievably pretty face
went by unknowingly, carrying a distressful hope
Mixing in the bitterness of the past, the poison of the present
I proposed a toast to the longings on this day of prison-visit
To the fellow drinkers of my homeland and beyond
To the beauty of the worlds, the grace of beloved's lip and cheek
(Prison of Lahore Fort, 1959. Taken from the collection: The hand under the
stone)
Down the memory lanes, on which
you've strolled since ages past
They will end if you walk farther a step or two
Where exits the turn towards the wilderness of forgetfulness
beyond which, there isn't any Me, nor any You
My eyes hold their breath, for any moment you
may turn back, move ahead, or at least turn to look back
Although my sight knows that the wish is just a farce
For if ever it were to run across your eyes again
right there will spring forth another pathway
Like always, where ever we run into, there will begin
another journey of your lock's shadow, your embrace's tremor
The other wish is also in error, for my heart knows
There is no turn here, no wilderness, no mountain-range
beyond whose horizon, my perpetual sun-of-your-Love can set
12. May you continue walking these pathways, its better this way
If you don't even turn to look back, it is okay
