Morḡ-e saḥar, nāla sar kon!
dāḡ-e marā tāzatar kon
z-āh-e šararbār in qafas-rā
baršekan o zir o zabar kon
bolbol-e par-basta ze konj-e qafas dar-ā
naḡma-ye āzādi-e nawʿ-e bašar sarā
w-az nafas-i ʿarṣa-ye in ḵāk-e tuda-rā
por šarar kon, por šarar kon
ẓolm-e ẓālem, jawr-e ṣayyād
āšiān-am dāda bar bād
ey ḵodā, ey falak, ey ṭabiʿat
šām-e tārik-e mā-rā saḥar kon
nowbahār ast, gol ba bār ast
abr-e časm-am žala-bār ast
in qafas čun del-am tang o tār ast
šoʿla fekan dar qafas ey āh-e ātašin
dast-e tabiʿat, gol-e ʿomr-e marā mačin
jāneb-e ʿāšeq negar ey tāza gol---az in
bištar kon, bištar kon, bištar kon
morḡ-e bidel, šarḥ-e hejrān
moḵtaṣar, moḵtaṣar, moḵtaṣar kon
ʿomr-e ḥaqiqat ba-sar šod
ʿaḥd o wafā pey-separ šod
nala-ye ʿāšeq, nāz-e maʿšuq
har do doruḡ o bi-aṯar šod
rāsti o mehr o moḥabbat fasāna šod
qawl o šarāfat hamagi az miāna šod
az pey-e dozdi, waṭan o din bahāna šod, dida tar šod
ẓolm-e malek, jawr-e arbāb
zāreʿ az ḡam gašta bitāb
sāḡar-e aḡniā por mey-e nāb
jamʿ-e mā por ze ḵun-e jegar šod
ey del-e tang nāla sar kon
az qawi-dastān ḥaẕar kon
az mosāwāt ṣarf-e-naẓar kon
sāqi-e gol-čehra, bedeh āb-e ātašin
parda-ye delkaš bezan, ey yār-e delnešin
nāla bar-ār az qafas ey bolbol-e ḥazin
k-az ḡam-e to sina-ye man
por šarar, por šarar, por šarar šod.
Dawn bird, lament!
Make my brand burn even more.
With the sparks from your sigh, break
And turn this cage upside down.
Wing-tied nightingale come out of the corner of your cage, and
Sing the song of freedom for human kind.
With your fiery breath ignite,
The breath of this peopled land.
The cruelty of the cruel and the tyranny of the hunter
Have blown away my nest.
O God, O Heavens, O Nature,
Turn our dark night to dawn.
It’s a new spring, roses are in bloom
Dew drops are falling from my cloudy eyes
This cage, like my heart, is narrow and dark.
O fiery sigh set alight this cage
O fate, do not pick the flower of my life.
O rose, look towards this lover,
Look again, again, again.
O heart-lost bird, shorten, shorten, shorten,
The tale of separation.
Truth’s life has come to an end
Faith and fidelity have been replaced by the shield of war.
Lover’s lament and beloved’s coyness,
Are but lies and have no power.
Truth, love and affection are but myths
Oath and honour are but vanished.
For thieving, country and religion are pretexts, eyes are wet
Landlord’s cruelty, master’s tyranny,
The farmer’s restless from sorrow.
The cup of the rich is full of pure wine,
Our cup is filled with our heart’s blood.
O anxious heart, cry out aloud
And avoid those who have powerful hands,
Count not on justice.
O rosy-cheeked cup-bearer, give the fiery water,
Play a joyful tune, O charming friend.
O sad nightingale lament from your cage.
Because of your grief my heart is
Full of sparks, sparks, sparks.
--- Moḥammad-Taqi Bahār
कोई टिप्पणी नहीं:
एक टिप्पणी भेजें