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  1. 1. POETRY OF FAIZ Jahanzeb Jahan I.D: 100784-006
  2. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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. 12. May you continue walking these pathways, its better this way If you don't even turn to look back, it is okay