Showing posts with label Sufi Saint. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sufi Saint. Show all posts

Friday, January 18, 2008

Just a glance

Another poem by Amir Khusro, sung by many singers.

Chhap tilak sab cheen li ray mosay naina milaikay.
Prem bhatee ka madhva pilaikay
Matvali kar leeni ray mosay naina milaikay …
Bal bal jaaon mein toray rang rajwa
Apni see kar leeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Khusrau Nijaam kay bal bal jayyiye
Mohay Suhaagan keeni ray mosay naina milaikay
Chhap tilak sab cheen li ray mosay naina milaikay

(I found this translation somewhere)
You’ve taken away my looks, my identity, by just a glance.
By making me drink the wine of love-potion,
You’ve intoxicated me by just a glance;
I give all my life to you, I want to be like you,
You’ve dyed me in yourself, by just a glance.
I give my whole life to you Oh, Nijam,
You’ve made me your bride, by just a glance.
You've taken away my looks, my identity, by just a glance.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Mango, mustard and beloved

I came across this beautiful piece by the sufi saint Amir Khusro. The poetry itself is ecstatic. Flowers, basant, yellow mustard, happiness, this poem describes the arrival of spring season. The composition by Sabri brothers was an extra treat.

Sakal bun phool rahi sarson
Umbva phutay, tesu phulay
Koyal bolay daar daar
Aur gori karat singhaar,
Malaniyan gadhwa lay aayin karson,
Sakal bun phool rahi sarson
Tarah tarah kay phool lagaaye,
Lay gadhwa haathan mein aaye.
Nijamudin kay darwazay par,
Aawan keh gaye aashaq rung,
Aur beet gaye barson.
Sakal bun phool rahi sarson.

Its difficult to convey the same meaning in any other language but Ive tried a rough translation. (Just the words sarson and mustard evoke different thoughts in mind)

The mustard flowers bloom in every field,
Mango buds sprout, and tesu yield;
The cuckoo chirps from branch to branch,
And the maiden puts her make-up and jewellery,
The gardener-girls have brought bouquets.
Planted flowers of all kinds,
Brought bouquets in our hands
To the door of Nizamudin
My beloved went away promising to come back,
But years have passed since that.
The mustard flowers bloom in every field.