|
ٻيو داستان
وڳر ويا وهي، ڪالهه تنهنجا ڪونجڙي
ڪندينءَ ڪوه رهي، سَرَ ۾ پرين ريءَ.
V
O little crane, the flocking cranes
But yesterday did wing their way.
Within the marsh without thy friends
What wilt thou gain by longer stay?
وڳر ڪيو وتن، پرت نه ڇنن پاڻ ۾،
پسو پکيئڙن، ماڻهئان ميٺ گهڻو.
The crance fly off in gathered flight:
Their bonds of love they do not sever.
For lo! Within the gathered wisp
For them aboundeth sweetness ever.
جڏهن سُتيون جي، پٿر پير ڊگها ڪري،
تڏهن تنهين کي، ساٿ سُتو ئي ڇڏيو.
When sleeping girls their limbs
Stretched on the couch had laid
And they were sunk in sleep,
Off went the camelcade.
By stretching limbs in sleep
A great mistake was made.
ستيِنءَ پير ڊگها ڪري، وڏي جاڙ ڪياءِ،
در ڀر بيٺيِنءَ دوست جي ته سُرٻُر توءِ سُياءِ،
اَصل آريءَ ڄام جي سڳي تون نه سِياءِ،
پنهونءَ سين پياءِ، ٿي نڀاڳي ننڊون ڪرين.
Wouldst thou by Friend's door stand,
A whisper there would be.
From every bond and tie
Of Ari thou art free;
And what can 'Punhun' mean,
If sleep befalleth thee?
سُتينءَ سنجهيئي، منهن ويڙهي مُئن جان،
اوجاڳا اَکين کي ڄاتئي نه ڏيئي،
هٿان تو پيئي، ٿي ڪچو ڪيچين کي ڪرين.
Thou didst, asleep at eve,
Wrap up thy face as dead.
Thou couldst not tell thine eyes
How sleep is banished
Thine own hand's work! Why blame
The men of Kech instead?
ٽيون داستان
ڏونگر، ڏُکَ سنداءِ، پرين گڏجان ته چَوان،
ڀِنيءَ ٿئين ڀوارئون، ٻئا وِنگا ور سنداءِ،
چڱي ڪانه ڪياءِ، پير وڃائي پرين جو.
VII
Sasui.
O mountain, you brought me grief.
I shall tell my friend when we greet.
There was terror at morning time:
In your twists and turns deceit.
No boon did you work for me
Losing tracks of my loved one's feet.
ڏونگر ڏوراپو، پهرون چونديس پرين کي،
ته پهڻن پير پٿون ڪيا، تريون ڇنيم تو،
رحم نه پئي روح ۾، قدر منهنجو ڪو،
ڪنديس واڪا وو، مونسين جبل ٿي جاڙُون ڪيون.
O mountain, first to my friend
Shall I heap up your name with scorn:
How my feet were crushed by the stones,
How my soles to ribbons were torn.
Not a thought for me, not a jot
Of rue in your heart was borne.
ڏونگر، مون مَ ڏُکوءِ، آءٌ اَڳ ڏکوئي آهيان،
ساريان ڪونه سکوءِ، سور گهڻئي سَنڀِران.
'Tis the mountain that brings me woe.'
This my cry to heaven will soar.
O mountain, torture me not,
I have suffered much before.
No joy do I call to mind:
I remember of grief full store.
ڏونگر ڏکوين، کي دلاسا ڏجن،
گهڻو پڇجي تن کي، جن وٽان هوت وڃن،
تون ڪينءَ سندا تن، پهڻ پير ڏکوئِيين؟
O mountain, on suffering ones
Should solace and help descend,
And largesse of sympathy come
To them who have lost their friend,
Then why, O stone, to their feet
Is it torture you extend?
ڏونگر ڏکويون، تو وٽ اورڻ آئيون،
جي اَچن ڦوڙائيون، ڏجن دلاسا تن کي.
O mountain, stricken forlorn
Folk come to tell you their woe:
To them who are broken and bruised
Should heartening solace flow.
ٻئي ويٺا روُنِ، ڏُکي ڏونگر پاڻ ۾،
ڪنهين کي ڪين چُون، منجهن جو مچ ٻري.
Sayid.
They sit together, together they weep,
Afflicted woman and mountain-steep,
To none telling aught of the flames
That within their hearts are aglow.
ٽيون داستان
مون کي ڇڏ مَ ڇپرين هوتاڻي هن هنڌ،
توسين پونديس پنڌ، ڏينديس باه ڀنڀور کي.
VIII
Sasui.
Mid the crags leave me not in the country of Hot;
With thee, on my feet I shall trudge,
Setting Bhambhor in flames, so little I'd care,
The Baluchis miserable drudge.
جيهي جي تيهي، ته ٻانهي ٻاروچن جي،
حجت هوت پنهل سين مون ڪميڻيءَ ڪيهي؟
اَصل آريءَ ڄام جي پلئه آءٌ پيئي،
هوءِ جا پائين پير ۾، تنهن آءٌ جتيءَ نه جيهي،
وساري ويهي، تن ڪيچين کي ڪينءَ رهان؟
Mean as I am, how can I address
Punhun, my love and my friend?
Completely sunk under Ari's spell
Clutching his garment-end.
I am less, much less, than Baluchis shoes
That they wear upon their feet.
Forgetting the kechis how can I stay
Resting upon the seat?
هئي جي نه هئي، ته ٻانهي ٻاروچن جي،
اُن سڱ مقابل سسئي سندين ٿي سئي،
هنن تان لڄ لُئي، هِن جو هلڻ هوت ڏي.
Sayid.
A poor, poor thing of little worth,
The Baluchis' veriest slave.
By the tie of the bond that was held to them
Her liberty Sasui gave.
گولي بندي، ڏاه، زر خريد جتن جي،
اَجپڻ عنات چئي، هٿ آرياڻي آه،
سو مون سَڏ سُهاءِ، جئن ٻانهي ڪوٺِينمِ ٻاجهه سين.
A chattel, a servant, a slave, and a thing
With the gold of the camelmen bought.
'Her liberty lies in Ari's hand'
(Let Poet Inayat tell).
Sasui.
If out of their mercy they called me slave
'Twas a name that fitted me well.
چوٿون داستان
پرتوو پنهونءَ جو جُهڙَ جئن جهالا ڏي،
آءٌ تنهن آريءَ کي، وٺيو راه رئان گهڻو.
IX
Like a cloud the rays of Punhun shine
But waiting for Ari I weep
Many tears. In surfeit of purest joy
His rays my senses steep.
پرتوو پنهونءَ جو رُڳيائي راحت،
ڀانيان ڏيهه ڀوارئون ساڄن لاءِ صحت،
مِٺي مصيبت، آهي آريءَ ڄام جي.
I think of this awesome land as health
Because of my loved one there.
From Ari lord let calamity come,
Still sweetness is everywhere.
پنجون داستان
ساريان ٿي سبيل، پُر نقصيرون پاڻ ڏي،
متان مون کي ڇڏئين، آري ڄام اَصيل!
وَرُ وِلهن جا وَسيِلَ، رس رهبر راهه ۾.
X
Many are the faults within me: thus my reckoning, Noble Lord.
Ari, do not leave me. Meet me. In my sorrow hope afford.
Come beside me, Guide, and guide me wandering upon the way.
اَچئو اَچئو چُونِ، وِهُ، ويا ته گهوريا،
سرتين سانگ سُکن سان، مون جئن رَتُ نه رُونِ،
او مَرُ ويٺيون هونِ، سانگا تو سور ٿيا.
Girl friends come and coming plague me: 'Rest: for they are
lost' they say,
'Who set out upon their journey.' Bound to kin
by joyful ties
They, unlike me, are not weeping tears of blood
from weeping eyes.
Haply they may rest themselves then. I am wed to
wealth of woe.
سرتيون سوراتين جي ڪوُ ٿيون پٿرِ پون؟
گهاءُ نه لڳن گهٽ جو، رِيا مان ٿيون رُونِ،
چيتارِئو نه چُونِ، پارَ منهنجي پرين تان.
Why do they on mat of mourning for sad folk
prostrate them so?
They are not by wounds afflicted such as touch
the inmost heart.
But they make pretence of grieving. With a
self-regarding art
Not an anguished cry they utter for my love. O
tell, friends, tell.
سرتيون ڪين سگهي ٿئي، ويڙهِي جا وِرِهن،
چت جنهنجو چُورُ ڪيو ڏکوئي ڏکن،
پُڄاڻان پرين، اَديون اَگهي آهيان.
Can the girl whose soul's encompassed by the
darts of love be well?
Or whose mind Is crushed with sorrows sunken in
a sorry plight?
Sisters, love without, I'm sickly.
حقيقت هن حال جي، جي ظاهر ڪريان ذري،
ته لڳي ماٺ مِرن کي ڏونگر پَوَن، ڏري،
وڃن وڻ ٻري، اوڀر اُڀري ڪونه ڪو.
Did I but a jot recite
What my state is, beasts were tongueless,
mountains would asunder go,
Trees would perish in their burning, not a blade
of grass would grow.
ڇهون داستان
ڪَنِهن پَرِ رُئان پرين کي، روئي نه ڄاڻان،
مٿي ڪيو ڀُڻان، هَنجن هاڻا هٿڙا.
XI
How shall I weep for my love then I know not the way to weep.
Lifting and lifting aloft the hands that are soiled with
tears?
سچ وسندي تن کي جوش جلايا جي،
طالب جي تحقيق جا نينهن تنهين وٽ ني،
ٽيڏي پسي ٽي، هو تان آهي هڪڙو.
Deserts are smiling land to them who are burnt with love.
Carry thou love to them who are searchers after the truth.
Where there is only One, the squint-eyed woman sees three.
ٻيون ڏيئي ٻن کي، هنج پاسي هيڪ،
وَرُ نه سهي ويڪ، تون ٽيڏي ٽيايون ڪرين.
Away with things that are Two: go to the side of the One.
Thou revellest in deceit, O squint-eyed woman: thy spouse
Sundering cannot abide.
ڇِننِ توءِ مَ ڇِن، پاءِ اميري اُن سين،
جي هوءِ اَوڳڻ ڏينئي سسئي، ته تون ڳڻ ڏيئي ڳِنُ،
پُٺيءَ لڳي پِنُ، هِن سونهاري سڱ کي.
With them who would break with thee
Break not but join thyself, like the fold of a garment's hem.
Sasui, harsh though they treat thee, win them with merciful
heart.
This bond that is noble and good beg for and, begging,
pursue.
سُر سسئي آبڙي
پهريون داستان
اول آخر آهِ، هلڻ منهنجو هوت ڏي،
پورهيو سندو پورهيتين، والي ڪِيمَ وڃاءِ،
ٿڪيءَ ٿورو لاءِ، جئن جيئري ملي جت کي.
XII
Be it soon: or late let it be.
I must go to my Friend, I must go.
A heavy work thy handmaiden wrought:
O Master, bring it not thus to nought
But grant this favour to me.
I am weary: let me the camelman see
While the blood in my veins doth flow.
چي سِجهائي سڪ، ته پڻ سڪي سسئي،
پيتائين پنهونءَ کي هڏ نه ڀڳيس هڪ،
اِن تڙ منجهان تِڪ، ڏني پاڻ اُڃ ٿئي.
Slow melting is yearning's bane;
And verily Sasui yearned.
She was teeped in the depth of Punhun's love.
But her thristing desire she could not move.
Love's water in gulps she did drain
To bring to her only the greater pain
Of the thirst that within her burned.
پاڻي مٿي جهوپڙا، مورکَ اُڃ مرن،
ساهان اوڏو سپرين اچئون تان نه لهن،
دم نه سڃاڻن، دانهون ڪن مُٺَن جان.
The huts by the water stand;
But fools for the want of it die,
My friends are nearer then life to me
But they find me not nor this truth can see,
And complain like a stricken band.
ساجن ڪارڻ سڃ، مر قبولي سسئي،
اندر جنهين اڃ، پاڻيءَ اُڃئو اُن کي.
Let Sasui roam through the desert land.
Water hath made them thistier yet
Whose thirst within them doth lie.
ٻيو داستان
پسي ڏونگر ڏاه، جِمَ هلڻ ۾ هيڻي ٿئين،
لانچي لڪ، لطيف چئي، پٺيءَ ڪيچن ڪاه،
پُڇي پورج سسئي بلوچاڻي باه،
اِن وڙائتي ور جي آسر هڏ مَ لاه،
اکنئون اوڏو آه، سو پرين پراهون مَ چئو.
XIII
Sasui
I have no knowledge of the waste of scrub. Men speak
Of desert stretching far. Come back, my hope, my love,
I weary wandering o'er the waste. Thou spouse of mine,
Make me not desolate, nor leave me thus upon the way.
واقف نه وڻڪار جي، پاڻي کنيم نه پاءُ،
هڪ جبل جلدايون ڪري، ٻيو تک ڏيکاري تاءُ،
لڳن لڪون لطيف چئي، معذورين مٿاءُ،
اُتي اوڏو آءُ، جت هوت هيڪلي آهيان.
I have no knowledge of the waste of scrub. I drink
No drop of wate. How the hills assail me and the heat
Pours forth its fierceness. (Hot winds blow amain,
The poet says, upon a hapless soul) Come hither, come,
O friend of mine, be with me for I am alone.
وڏا وڻ وڻڪار جا، جت نانگ سُڄن نيلا،
اُتي عبداللطيف چئي، ڪيا هيڪِلين حيلا،
جِتِ ڪُڙَم نه قبيلا، اُت رهبر رسج راهه ۾.
The waste of scrub hath lofty trees. Folk say therein
The black snakes dwell. Come near me, O thou Guide, come
near.
Upon the way no family and no kin can comfort me.
ويچاري وڻڪار، اَڳ نه ڏٺو هو ڪڏهين،
مهر نه هئي ماڻهئين، هو سڀ اَنڌوڪار،
جَتُ ڪيائين يار، سورن ڪارڻ سرتيون.
Sayid.
The wretched girl had ne'er before beheld that waste of scrub
No pitying eye of man could see her and the skies were dark.
O sisters, to her own great woe she made the camelman her
friend.
ٽيون داستان
وري پُڇُ ويٺن کان سندا پنهونءَ پار،
ساجَنُ سڀ ڄمار، ڏکي ڏورج ڏيل ۾.
XIV
From women folk who sit and rest,
Go, ask thou now of Punhun's ways.
O wretched girl, within thyself
Look for thy loved one all thy days.
ڪونهي اُت ڪوهيار، جت ڀوري تو ڀانئيو،
پنڌ مَ ڪر پهاڙن ڏي، وجود ئي وَڻِڪار،
ڌاريان ڀانئج ڌار، پڇ پريان ڪر پاڻ تون.
He is not where thou thought'st he was,
Fond girl, thy lover from the hills.
Hillward then fare not. Thine own self
The place of barren Wankar fills.
سڀيئي ساري سسئي گهر ڪنڊون تون گهور،
وڃي ڏُورِ مَ ڏور، دران منجهه دوست ٿيو.
All strangers think as folk apart.
Ask of thyself where are thy friends.
O Sasui, make careful search
Of all thy house's corner-ends.
دران منجهه دوست ٿيو، موٽي پڇ پاهين،
عبث آڳاهين، وڃيو ڪُوڪين ڪانڌ کي.
However far thou journey'st forth
Lo! is thy friend still at thy door!
Return and ask thyself again:
Thy friend is on thy very floor.
'Tis bootless wandering far afield
And crying out thy lord to find.
پرگهران پاسو ڪري پڇ پريان ڪر پاڻ،
سو تان توهين ساڻ، جنهن لاءِ جفائون ڪرين.
Avoid the doors of stranger-folk:
But search instead within thy mind.
Thy loved one that thou sufferest for
Of very sooth resides in thee.
وڃين ڇو وڻڪار، هِت نه ڳولين هوت کي؟
لڪو ڪينَ، لطيف چئي، ٻاروچو ٻئي پار،
ٿيءُ سَتي، ٻنڌ سندرو، پِرت پنهونءَ سين پار،
نائي نيڻ نهار، ته تو ۾ ديرو دوستَ جو.
Why go to Wankar, if not here
Thou searchest thy beloved to see?
'Not hidden yonder,' says Latif,
'Is thy Baluch.' Thy merit prove:
Gird up thy loins and so fulfil
Thy promise of thy Punhun's love.
With closed eyes search and see within
Thyself how doth thy love appear.
ڪُوڙيون پُڇن ڪيچُ، هوت نه پڇن هِتهِين،
جَن پنهونءَ سين پيچُ، تن پيرين پنڌ وساريو.
False are the womenfolk who ask
For Kech, but not for Punhun here.
But womenfolk whose hearts in his
With bonds of love are intertwined,
Have banished their journeyings
And cast foot-wanderings from their mind.
هلَ هِنئين سين هوت ڏي پيرين پنڌ وسار،
قاصداڻي ڪار، ڪين رساڻي ڪيچ کي.
Go with thine heart towards thy love:
Forget foot-wandering thou didst wend.
It is not like messenger
That thou wilt reach thy journey's end.
هلُ هِنئَين سين هوت ڏي، پيرين ڪر مَ پنڌ،
رائي پُڇ مَ رَند، رڙهه رَوحاني سسئي.
Go with thine heart towards thy love.
Cease, Sasui, wanderings of thy feet.
Ask not the sand how lies the path.
To travel soul-fully is meet.
هلُ هِينئين سين هوت ڏي، ڇپِر ڇُلُ مَ تون،
منجهان لڌو مون، ڪوهيارو ڪيچ ڌڻي.
Go with thine heart towards thy love
And roam not where the mountains stand.
'Within my heart I found my Lord,
The man of Kech's hilly land.'
هلُ هِينئين سين هوت ڏي، سسئي کڻ مَ ساڻ،
جنهن ڀانيو پاڻ، سي آرياڻيان اوري رهيون.
Go with thine heart towards thy love:
Discard the body's weakly aid.
Thy who their worth of soul did know
By side of loved Ariyani stayed.
چوٿون داستان
هيجُ نه هوندو جن، سي ڪئن وندر وينديون،
ويهو وِچ رهن، سهسين سَڌن واريون.
XV
Can girls who yearn not reach the desert scrub?
Nay! They will falter on the way o'ercome
By thousand-fold desire, themselves desire's own
soul.
سڌائتي سڀ ڪا، بک نه باسي ڪاءِ،
جيهيءَ تيهيءَ ذات جي جنبش ڪانهي جاءِ،
مون سين هلي سا، جا جيءُ مٺو ئي نه ڪري.
Not one will suffer hunger. Such poor folk
Are stopped of progress. But let her proceed
Who doth not reck of putting life to risk.
سکن واري سَڌ، متان ڪا مون سين ڪري،
اندر جنهين اڌَ،
ڏونگر سي ڏورينديون.
No lover of soft ease may come with me.
But those whose inward souls are racked with
pain
May search with me throughout the mountain land.
وريتيون ورو، آءٌ نه ورندي ور ري،
جاڏي هِن جبل جو تانگهينديس ترو،
جتن ساڻ ذرو، مون کي نِينهنُ نبيرڻُ نه ٿيو.
Ye who have husbands, turn ye back. Return
I shall not, if my spouse be not with me.
I'll drain the dregs of searching fearsome
hills.
I'd little loving with the camelmen.
وڃو سڀ وري، آئِين جي ورن واريون،
ڦوڙائي فراق جي سُڄي ڳالهه ڳري،
ٻنڀان جن ٻري، ڏونگر سي ڏورينديون.
Return, all ye with husbands, Parting's rift
Is said to frighten. If love's fire within
Heart's portal burns for women, women will
O'er hillside wander and o'er mountain roam.
تو جو ٻول ٻروچ، ويهي ڪيو وڻڪار ۾،
سو ئي پارج هوت، مون مُٺيءَ معذورِ سين.
That promise thou didst make on Windar once
Fulfil for me, Baroch, my friend, who am
Dead, hepless.
پهرين تون پاريج، پارڻ پوءِ پنهل تي،
ٻولَ مَ وساريج، هو جو ڪَيئي هوت سين.
Yet must Sasui herself.
First keep her promise, then must Punhun his.
Forget not then the trysting made with Hot.
سڻي ٻولَ سندان، جم سمهين سسئي،
ڪندينءَ ڪہُ ڪيڻان، جسي اُن اورانگهيا.
The words thy spoke thu heardest. Slumber not.
How wilt thou treat the hills the wanderers
passed?
چُڪَس سڀ چئي ماڻهو شهر ڀنڀور جا،
سا موٽي ڪئن مُئي، جنهنجو جانب جت وٺي ويا.
In Bhambhor townsmen held much argument.
Can she come back, the lifeless one whose love
The camelmen abducted?
موٽي مران مَ ماءُ، موٽڻ کان اڳي مران،
لُڇي لالن لاءِ، شال پونديس آءٌ پير تي.
Mother mine,
Oh may I not return and die, but die.
Before returning. Suffering torment for my love
I may perchance then stumble on his footsteps
there.
پنجون
داستان
جيئڻ لَئي جيڏيون مون کي ڏنا ڏيرن ڏُک،
ڀڳيس جان ڀنڀور کان تان سور مڙيئي سُک،
لٿي مون تان لُک، پنهون ٿيس پاڻهين.
XVI
O girls, my friends, within my days I've
suffered from my husband's kin.
But when I fled from Bhambhor, lo! My grief was
changed into joy.
From me was woe's dark curtain drawn and I mine
own loved one became.
Sasui's female grace is fled: and she herself is
Punhun now.
ويئي سونهن سسئيءَ جي، پنهون ٿيس پاڻ،
سڀني جي سيد چئي، آهي اُت اُماڻ،
ڀنڀور جا ڀاڻ، آڏا عجيبن کي.
In such like oneness, saith the Sayid,
protection is for lovers found.
The shelter of Bhambhor's abode for loving
hearts is near at hand.
ڪافَئوُن ڪاهيندياس، موٽان ڪر مهڻو،
ٻانهي ٻاروچن جي، سڱ نه ساهيندياس،
’اَلفِراقُ اَشَدَ مِنَ الَموتِ‘ هتي نه هوندياس،
آس نه لاهيندياس، جيئري جتُ ڏسي مران!
I'll struggle on across the hills. If I return,
'twill be my shame.
I am but the Baluch's slave. I shall not claim
the marriage tie.
To separate is worse then death. I shall not
here myself remain.
Hope I'll not yield. Alive may I behold the
camelman and die.
جيئڻ جت ڌاران، معذور جو مس ٿئي،
چانگن سر چڙهي ويا ساٿي سوارا،
اَکيون
اوتارا، پسيو روئن پنهونءَ جا.
Tis not in things that I, poor wretch, without
the camelman should live:
And his companions are gone, thy climbed on
camels, rode away.
Where Punhun halted on his road, mine eyes weep
tears to see the place.
هوت تنهنجي هنج ۾ پڇين ڪوه پَهي؟
’وَفي اَنفسَڪم اَفَلا تُبصِرُونُ‘ سوجهي ڪر سهي،
ڪڏهِ ڪانه وهي، هوتُ ڳولَڻُ هٽ تي.
'Thy love is in thy lap': then why from travelers dost thou
make thy quest?
'Thy love's within thee! Seest thou not'? This
saying ponder well and know.
She never sought the public place to ask where
her loved one might be.
هوت تنهنجي هنج ۾، پڇين ڪوه پرياڻ؟
’ونَحنُ اَقربُ اِليہ مِن حَبل الَوِرِيد‘ تُنهنجو
توهي ساڻ،
پنهنجو آهي پاڻ، آڏو عجيبن کي.
'Thy love is in thy lap': why askest thou like
this for sign of him?
'Nearer than vein of neck is he.' Thine own is
with thy very self.
For self is bound with self indeed: to those in
love true self is near.
اَديون آءٌ اَڄاڻ، مون سڱ سڃاڻي نه ڪيو،
هوند نه سٺيم هيتري ڪوهياري جي ڪاڻ،
رتيءَ جي رهاڻ، جيءُ آڙايم جت سين.
O sisters, such I did not know. Unwitting
marriage-tie I bound;
Else less, assuredly, had been the suffering
that the Hillman caused.
For tawdry pleasure I entwined my life within
the camelman's.
ڇهون داستان
ڏُکا ڏُونگر ڄامَ، مَ ڪر معذورن تي،
توتي لڄ، لطيف چئي، آهي سندي عام،
مارِ مَ چئي معذور کي وَهيان ڪانڌ ڪلامَ،
پرچج پيادن سين اَلله لڳ علام،
ڏمَز ڏونگر ڄامَ، ڪِجن پاڻ شريڪ سين.
XVII
Sasui.
O tyrant Mountain, heap no dread on hapless
girls.
Sayid.
The world respects thee, Sasui, saith Latif.
Sasui.
My powerful lord, kill not thy wretch with holy
words.
For God, All-Knower, be at peace with wanderers.
Leave her not lonely, Hot, who through thee won
a boon.
ڪيهي ڪلفت تنهن سين جا گولي اهنجي گامَ،
ورج تون وريام، مون ۾ پهچ ناه ڪا.
O tyrant Mountain, gainst thine equals work thy
dread.
Why dost thou deal thus harshly with thine
hamlet's slave?
Come back, my hero, for in me no strength
resides.
پير پٽائِين ڪئنرا ڏونگر مٿي ڏي،
ڦٽيا ڦڻ فقير جا سِيرون ٿيئڙا سي،
جِهڙي تِهڙي دل سين پُري پنهونءَ ڏي،
وڃي مانَ وري، ٻانهيءَ ٻنڌڻُ جنهن سين.
Set foot on mountain; softer be thy foot than
silk.
Sayid.
Sad though her plight, towards her Punhun went
the slave.
So go she: and return with him with whom she's
bound.
ستون داستان
وندُرِ جي وڃن، سي مر ٻنڌن سندرا،
ٻيون ڪوهُ ٻنڌن، ڇوڙي جي ڇڏينديون؟
XVIII
Who go to Windar, le them gird their loins.
But why should thy, their girdles who unbind?
ويٺي وَر نه پون، ستي ملن نه سپرين،
سي مَرُ ويٺيون رُون، جن مسافر سپرين.
It is not while we sit, our loved ones come.
Well may they weep whose loved ones wander far.
لُڇي، ڪين ڪُڇي، اَٽي منڌ اَندوهه ۾،
پر ۾ پير پڇي، لالن جو، لطيف چئي.
Sasui suffers torture, gnawed with grief
No word she uttereth: but secretly
She seeks for trace of her well-beloved.
ٻريائي ته ٻار، ڦوڪِ ته لڳي اَنبرين،
هتي جي هئڻ جُون، وٿون سڀ وسار،
سموري سرڪار، نيئي رکج ناه ۾.
If love's fire is a-kindling, kindle it
And fan it till its flames shall reach the
skies.
Forget the very stuff existence is;
In non-existence place it all away.
اَٺون داستان
اَڌَرَ، نِڌَرَ، اَڀري، اَسونهين آهيان،
لُڙڪَ، لعل لطيف چئي، ور ليءِ وهايان،
هيجان هنجون حَبِ ۾ هوتن لَيءِ هاريان،
جانب ضعيفيءَ سين پنهل پهايان،
پيهان پچايان، جي مان نيو پاڻ سين.
XIX
Sasui
Strenghtless, feeble, weak, without a guide.
I shed tears for my husband. From mine heart
I pour love's tears forth. Yet thought weak I be
I strive to make my peace with Punhun. Love,
I'll grind the corn and bake it: only thou
But take me with thee so I be with thee.
اَچي عِزرائيل سُتي جاڳائي سسئي،
ٿي ڊوڙائي دليلَ ته پنهونءَ ماڻهو موڪليو.
Sayid.
When Azrad came and woke the sleeping girl,
Sasui fancied Punhun sent this man.
مُنڪِرَ ۽ نَڪيرِ کي جڏهين ڏٺائين،
اڳيان اُٿي اُن کي پنهل پڇيائين،
چي ادا، اِئائين، ڪو ويو ساٿ سڄڻ جو؟
When Munkar and Nakir she saw, she asked
For news of Punhun thus: 'Oh brothers, say,
Did any party of my friends pass by from here?'
|
