Hasan Kooza_gur - Noon Meem (NM) Rashid

**udasullo** · #1 09-29-2008

This is a beautiful nazam by late Noon Meem Rashid. English translation has been provided.

Jahaa.N-zaad neechey gali mai.N tere dur ke aagay
yeh mai.N sooKhta_sir, Hassan koozah_gur hoo.N
tujhey subha bazaar mai.N bood.rhey attar yousuf
ki dukaan par mai.N nay dekha
tu teri nigahoo.N mai.N voh tabnakee
thee mai.N jis ki hasrat mai.N noo saal deevana phirta raha hoo.N
jahaa.N-zaad, noo saal deevana phirta raha hoo.N
yeh voh daur tha jis mai.N, mai.N nay
kabhi apney ranjoor koozoo.N ki jaanib
palaT kar na dekha
yeh koozey mere dust-e-chaabuk ke putley
gil-o-rang-o-rauGhan kii makhluuq-e-bejaa.N
voh sargooshiyoo.N mai.N kehtey hai.N
“Hasan koozah_gar ab kaha.N hai?
vo hum se, Khud apne ‘amal se
Khudavand bun kar Khudaao.N kii maanind hai ruu-e-gardaa.N!”
Jahaa.N-zaad, noo saal ka daur yoo.N mujh pe guzraa
ke jaisey kisii shahr-e-madfuun par vaqt guzre;
taGhaaroN mai.N miTTi
kabhi jis ki Khushboo se vaarafta hotaa thaa mai.N
sang-basta pad.ri thi
suraahii-o-miina-o-jaam-o-subuu aur faanuus-o-guldaa.N
merii hech-maaya ma’eeshat ke, izhaar-e-fan ke sahaaray
shikasta pad.re thay
mai.N Khud, mai.N Hasan koozah_gar, paa-ba-gil, Khaak bar_sir, barahna
sar-e-chaak zhauliida-muu, sar ba zaanu
kisi Gham-zada devtaa ki tarah vaahma ke
gil-o-laa se Khuvaabo.N ke sayyal koozey banaataa rahaa thaa

Jahaa.N-zad, noo saal pehlay
tu naada.N thi lekin tujhey yeh Khabar thi
ke mai.N ne, Hasan koozah_gur nay
teri qaaf ki sii ufaq taab aankhoN
mei.N dekhii hai vo taabnaakii
ke jis se mere jism-o-jaan, abr-o-mahtaab kii
raah-guzar bun gaye thay
Jahaan-zad, Baghdad ki Khuvaab-guu.N raat
vo raud-e-Dajla kaa saahil
vo kashtii, vo mallaah kii band aankheN
kisii Khasta-jaaN, ranj bar koozah_gur ke liye
aik hi raat vo kahrubaa thii
ke jis se abhi tak hai paivast us kaa vajuud …
us kaa paikar
magar aik hi raat kaa zauq daryaa kii vo lehr niklaa
Hasan koozah_gur jis mai.N Dooba to ubhraa nahi.N hai!

Jahaa.N-zad, is daur mai.N roz, her roz
vo sauKhta-baKht aa kar
mujhe dekhtii chaak par paa-ba-gil, sir ba zaanu
to shaano.N se mujh ko hilaatii …
(vuhii chaak jo saal-haa-saal jiine ka tanhaa sahaara rahaa thaa!)
vo shaano.N se mujh ko hilaatii:
“Hasan kooza_hur, hoossh mai.N aa
Hasan, apnay veeran ghar par nazar kar
ye bachcho.N ke tannuur kyonkar bharai.N gay
Hasan, aey muhabbat ke marey
muhabbat amiiro.N kii baazi
Hasan apne deevar-o-dur par nazar kar”
mere kaan mai.N ye nava-e-haziiN yoo.N thii jaisey
kisi Doobtey shaKhs ko zair-e-gardaab ko’ii pukaare!
vo askhoo.N ke anbaar phoolo.N ke anbaar the haa.N
magar mai.N, Hassan kooza_gur, shehr-e-auhaam ke un
KharaaboN kaa majzuub thaa jin
mai.N koi sadaa, ko’ii jumbish
kisii murGh-e-parraa.N kaa saaya
kisii zindagii kaa nishaa.N tak nahi.N thaa!

Jahaa.N-zaad, mai.N aaj teri gali mai.N
yahaa.N raat ki sard-guuN teergii mai.N
tere dur ke aagay khad.raa hoo.N
sar-o-muu pareshaan
dareechey se vo qaaf ki si tilismii nigaahai.N
mujhe aaj phir jhaanktii hai.N
zamaana, Jahaa.N-zaad, vo chaak hai jis pe miina-o-jaam-o-subu aur faanuus-o-guldaan
ke maanind bantey bigad.rtey hai.N insaa.N
maiN insaaN huuN lekin
ye noo saal jo Gham ke qaalab mai.N guzrey!
Hassan koozah_gur aaj ek tauda-e-Khaak hai jis mai.N num ka asar tak nahiN hai

Jahaa.n-zaad, baazaar mai.N subh’ ‘attar Yusuf
kii dukkan par teri aankhai.N
phir ek baar kuchh kah gayii hai.N
un aankho.N ki taabinda shoKhii
se uTThi hai phir tauda-e-Khaak mai.N num kii halki si larzish
yahi shaayad is Khaak ko gil banaa de !
tamanna ki vus’at ki kis ko Khabar hai, Jahaa.N-zaad, lekin
tu chaahey to bun jaoo.N mai.N phir
voohi koozah_gur jis ke koozay
thai har kaaKh-o-ku aur har shehar-o-qariya ki naazish
thai jin se amiir-o-gadaa ke masaakin daraKhshaa.N
tamanna ki vus’at ki kis ko Khabar hai, Jahaa.N-zaad, lekin
tu chahe to mai.N phir palaT jaoo.N un apney mehjoor koozo.N ki jaanib
gil-o-laa ke sookhey taGhaaro.N ki jaanib
ma’eeshat ke izhaar-e-fun ke sahaaro.N ki jaanib
ke mai.N us gil-o-laa se, us rang-o-roGhan
se phir vo sharaare nikaaloo.N ke jin se
diloo.N ke Kharaabe hoo.N rooshan!

English Translation Frances Pritchett:

Jahanzad, down in the street before your door
Here I am, burnt-out Hasan the Potter
This morning in the bazaar when I saw you
At old Yusuf the perfumer’s shop
In you glance was that brilliance
I’ve longed for, wandering nine years in madness
During that time
I never looked back
At my ailing pots -
Pots formed by my deft hands,
Lifeless creatures of clay, color, oilglaze
They whispered:
“Where is Hasan the Potter now?
He left us, his own creations
He created us, then turned away like the gods!”
Jahanzad, nine years passed for me
As time would pass in a buried city;
Clay in the clay-vats
With its fragrance that used to ravish me
Lay stone-hard
Flagon and flask, jug and cup, candlestick, vase
Props of my trivial life, of my art
Lay broken
I myself, Hasan the Potter, mud-mired, dusty-haired, naked
Besied my wheel, hair disheveled, head on knees
Like some grieving demigod, from fantasized
Clay-and-nothing I molded pliant pots out of dreams.
Jahanzad, nine years ago
You were a child, but you knew
That I, Hasan the Potter
Had seen in your talisman eyes, you sky-warming eyes
Brilliance
Which made my body and sould an open road
For cloud and moon
Janhanzad, the dream-colored Baghdad night
That bank of River Tigris
That boat, the boatman’s closed eyes
For a worn-out, grief-burdened potter
One night was the charged amber
His static being clings to, even now.
His soul, his shape
But that night’s flavor was a river-wave in which
Hasan the Potter sank and has not come up.
Jahanzad, in those days, day after day
That ill-starred woman came
When she saw me by the wheel, mud-mired, head on knees
She shook me by the shoulders -
(that wheel which had been, year after year, my life sole prop!)
she shook me by the shoulders:
“Hasan, look at you desolate house
how will the children’s hollow stomachs be filled?
Love-struck Hasan
Love is a rich man’s game
Hasan, look around at your house!”
In my ears this mournful voice was like
A call to a drowning man in whirlpool.
Those heaps of tears were flower-beds, no doubt
But I, Hasan the Potter, lived among ruins
In a fantasy-city where not
A voice, a movement
A flying bird’s shadow
Not a trace of my life existed.
Jahanzad, here now in you street
Her in the cold-colored darkness of night
I stand before you door
Head and hair disordered
From the window those spell-drowned talisman eyes
Flance at me once again
Time, Jahanzad, it the wheel aon which like flagon and flask, cup,
candlestick, vase
Humans are made and unmade
I am a human but
Those nine years that passed in the mold of grief!
Hasan the Potter is now a dust-mound without
Even a hint of moisture.
Jahanzad, this morning in the bazaar
At Yusuf the Perfumer’s shop, your eyes
Spoke once again
Their brilliant mischief
Calls forth again in the dust-mound a quiver of wetness
Perhaps to turn the dust to clay
Who knows the scope of longing, Jahanzad, but
If you want, I go back to being
That potter whose pots
Were the pride of every house and street, city and town
Whose pot shone in the homes of rich and poor
Who knows the scope of longing, Jahanzad, but
If you want, I will go back to my forsaken pots
To the dried-out vats of clay-and-nothing
To the props of my life, my art
So from this clay-and-nothing, color and oil glaze, I
Can again strike sparks
That light up the ruins of hearts.