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Everything promised him to me:
the fading amber edge of the sky,
and the sweet dreams of Christmas,
and the wind at Easter, loud with bells,
and the red shoots of the grapevine,
and the waterfalls in the park,
and two large dragonflies
on the rusty iron fencepost.
And I could only believe
that he would be mine
as I walked along the high slopes,
the path of burning stones.
1916
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Parvin Shakir is in a league of her own. A juggernaut of Urdu poetry. It makes me sad that tons of her stuff sits in a single language untranslated.
I suppose that's for a reason, reading translated poetry is like taking a shower with a raincoat on.
But still, here's a piece of hers I translated.
وہ باغ میں میرا منتظر تھا اور چاند طلوع ہو رہا تھا، زلف شب وصل کھل رہی تھی، خوشبو سانسوں میں گھل رہی تھی۔ آئی تھی میں اپنے پی سے ملنے، جیسے کوئی گل ہوا سے کھلنے۔ اک عمر کے بعد میں ہنسی تھی اور خود پر کتنی توجہ دی تھی!
پہنا گہرا بسنتی جوڑا اور عطر سہاگ میں بسایا۔ آئینے میں خود کو پھر کئی بار اس کی نظروں سے میں نے دیکھا۔ صندل سے چمک رہا تھا ماتھا، چندن سے بدن مہک رہا تھا۔ ہونٹوں پہ بہت شریر لالی اور گالوں پہ گلال کھیلتا تھا۔
بالوں میں پروئے اتنے موتی کہ تاروں کا گمان ہو رہا تھا۔ افشاں کی لکیر مانگ میں تھی اور کاجل آنکھوں میں ہنس رہا تھا۔ کانوں میں مچل رہی تھی بالی اور بانہوں سے لپٹ رہا تھا گجرا، اور سارے بدن سے پھوٹتا تھا اس کے لیے گیت جو لکھا تھا!
ہاتھوں میں لیے دئیے کی تھالی، اس کے قدموں میں جا کے بیٹھی۔ آئی تھی کہ آرتی اتاروں اور سارے جیون کو دان کر دوں!
دیکھا مرے دیوتا نے مجھ کو، بعد اس کے ذرا سا مسکرایا۔ پھر میرے سنہرے تھال پر ہاتھ رکھا بھی تو اک دیا اٹھایا، اور میری تمام زندگی سے مانگی بھی تو ایک شام مانگی۔
He was waiting for me in the garden – And the moon was in its naissance – The braids of the night of our union were being let loose – Scented air mixing with my breath – I came to meet my beloved – A flower opened by the breeze – I laughed at myself after an age – To myself I had assigned so much attention –
I donned a deep yellow dress – Within it etched the perfume of our first night – I saw myself in the mirror, through his eyes multiple times – My forehead glowing with sandal oil – My body perfumed with sandalwood – My lips tinted with a mischievous red – A flowery blush on the cheeks –
My hair was sewn with pearls like stars had been woven within – A line of glitter between the hairs parting – Khol laughing in the eyes – An earpiece twirling upon the ear – flower-garlands coiled around my arms – The melody I composed for him ringing from my body –
In my hands – I hold for him my offerings – I sat at his feet – I did so, to perform the worship ritual, to offer up my entire life –
My Divine looked at me – He smiled, mildly – He placed a hand on my golden offering tray – And picked up single a prayer lamp – And if he took anything from my entire life I offered – Then it was only a mere evening –
Jan 5, 2025
Feb 11, 2024
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By Margaret Atwood. My favorite love poem 🌹
I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear
I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center. I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.
Oct 22, 2024
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it’s like a silent retreat / rehab center where you put on your fur boots and grey paul frank sweatpants (low slung on the hips) then hit the local tj maxx adjacent stores with a venti starbucks in hand.
Nov 27, 2023
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enhances cognitive function by 200% and a glorious palette cleanser to take on your workday. symphony no.7 in A major, op 92: II. allegretto an absolute banger. avoid contemporary music in the morning. chants or hymns also induce a lovely trance but i would reserve that for days of rest.
Nov 29, 2023
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like eurotrash except hotter and more based. involves being an unbothered loser in europe. also the name of a cute dansewear brand.
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