Sahitya Akademi

TO THE YOUTH OF MY AGE

Author(s): Sahir Ludhianvi
Source: Indian Literature, Vol. 38, No. 6 (170), urdu writing today (Nov. - Dec. 1995), pp. 11-12
Published by: Sahitya Akademi
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/23335507
Accessed: 21-12-2015 15:41 UTC

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 Sahir ludhianvi

TO THE YOUTH OF MY AGE

Stars that had been the object

Of many an age's restless yearnings,
Oft overwhelmed us by their height
Or deterred us by vast horizons,
Made us forlorn,

Inspired our songs with

Celestial music
Those heavenly bodies, the distant stars,

They that remained unexplored,

Guiding the explorers.
The offsprings of light, the princelings of space,
Those eternal masters of our fates,
The perennial abode of broken hearts,
The guide-saints of the wearied caravans,
The objects of love of the adolescent youth,
The gems of a necklace the mistresses sought,
The bright flowers, lovers desired to pluck,
To be spread for the bride or decked in her nuptial bed,
The idol makers sought to worship
The distant beauties coming within reach,
With whom the singers desired to tune their voices
Whom the poets aspired to image in their verses,
That remained countless despite efforts to count,
That never came down to the terrestial domain

Away and far from our reach,

Always glancing with majestic disdain

O! the youth of my age—
The realm of those fantastic stars,
Is the offering to you of the new age.
The passion which hitherto controlled the water and the fire
Is now taking tribute
from the vast space.

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To my contemporaries and those who follow
Let the gift of our age
Be conducive to you
I look to the time
When you traverse the space for the sake of your love

Or your love would chase you through the space.

TAJ MAHAL

To you, my love, the Taj may be a manifestation of love,

The celebrated mausoleum, an object of adoration,
But someother rendezvous, my love.

What do we, the poor of the Earth, have to do in the royal courts?
The place that bears the imprints of imperial authority
Is of no use to us.

You should have seen, my love, the remains of stately might

Concealed in the memorial of the symbol of love.
Enamoured of the relics of the dead kings, my love,
Why don't you look at your own cottage.

Numberless persons have loved their mistresses

Who may doubt the sincerity of their passion?

But they did not have the means to immortalize their love,
Because they too were destitutes like us.
The monuments of magnificence, their ramparts and fortresses,

The edifice of the glory of the emperors absolute,

Are naught but cancers in the chest of time, Old, perennial,
The blood of mine and your ancestors.

My love, they too had passions sincere,

Whose hands have given it shape and grandeur,
The of their loves bear no epitaph
graves
Nor a lamp ever lit to remember them.

The garden-tomb on the bank of Jamuna, the memorial,

Its ornate facade, the arches, the niche excellent

All this is only a display of an emperor's wealth

To scorn the love of the poor
Someother love. □
rendezous, my

Translated by Naqi Husain Jafri

12 INDIAN LITERATURE : 170

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