Hum Dekhenge

- Faiz Ahmed Faiz

Hum dekhenge
Lazim hai ke hum bhi dekhenge
Wo din ke jis ka wada hai
Jo lauh-e-azl mein likha hai

Jab zulm-o-sitam ke koh-e-garan
Rooi ki tarah ur jaenge
Hum mehkoomon ke paaon tale
Ye dharti dhar dhar dharkegi
Aur ahl-e-hakam ke sar oopar
Jab bijli kar kar karkegi

Jab arz-e-Khuda ke kaabe se
Sab but uthwae jaenge
Hum ahl-e-safa mardood-e-harm
Masnad pe bethae jaenge
Sab taaj uchale jaenge
Sab takht girae jaenge

Bas naam rahega Allah ka
Jo ghayab bhi hai hazir bhi
Jo manzar bhi hai nazir bhi
Utthega an-al-haq ka nara
Jo mai bhi hoon tum bhi ho
Aur raaj karegi Khalq-e-Khuda
Jo mai bhi hoon aur tum bhi ho



English Translation:

We shall Witness
It is certain that we too, shall witness
the day that has been promised
of which has been written on the slate of eternity

When the enormous mountains of tyranny
blow away like cotton.
Under our feet- the feet of the oppressed-
when the earth will pulsate deafeningly
and on the heads of our rulers
when lightning will strike.

From the abode of God
When icons of falsehood will be taken out,
When we- the faithful- who have been barred out of sacred places
will be seated on high cushions
When the crowns will be tossed,
When the thrones will be brought down.

Only The name will survive
Who cannot be seen but is also present
Who is the spectacle and the beholder, both
I am the Truth- the cry will rise,
Which is I, as well as you
And then God’s creation will rule
Which is I, as well as you

Strange Fruit

By Abel Meeropol

Southern trees bear strange fruit,

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,

Black body swinging in the Southern breeze,

Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.

Pastoral scene of the gallant South,

The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,

Scent of magnolia sweet and fresh,

Then the sudden smell of burning flesh!

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,

For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,

For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,

Here is a strange and bitter crop.

Abel Meeropol: An American Communist poet.. In 1937, she a photograph ( the one below) of the lynching of Thomas Shipp and Abram Shipp. She was inspired to write this poem as she was haunted by the photograph for few days. She a member of the American Communist Party, using the pseudonym, Lewis Allan, published the poem in the New York Teacher and later, the Marxist journal, New Masses.

Khwaab Martay Naheen

ख़्वाब मरते नहीं
ख़्वाब दिल हैं न आँखें न साँसें कि जो
रेज़ा-रेज़ा हुए तो बिखर जाएँगे
जिस्म की मौत से ये भी मर जाएँगे
ख़्वाब मरते नहीं
ख़्वाब तो रोशनी हैं नवा हैं हवा हैं
जो काले पहाड़ों से रुकते नहीं
ज़ुल्म के दोज़खों से भी फुकते नहीं
रोशनी और नवा के अलम
मक़्तलों में पहुँचकर भी झुकते नहीं
ख़्वाब तो हर्फ़ हैं
ख़्वाब तो नूर हैं
ख़्वाब सुक़रात हैं
ख़्वाब मंसूर हैं।

--- अहमद फ़राज़

Dreams do not die.
Dreams are not heart, nor eyes or breath
Which shattered, will scatter (or)
Die with the death of the body.

Dreams do not die.
But dreams are light, voice, wind,
Which cannot be stopped by mountains black,
Which do not perish in the hells of cruelty,
Ensigns of light and voice and wind,
Bow not, even in abattoirs.

But dreams are letters,
But dreams are illumination,
Dreams are Socrates,
Dreams - Divine Victory!'

Ahmed Faraz (1931-2008) one of the greatest Urdu poets..

Life is but a dream

by: Lewis Carroll (1832-1898)

A boat, beneath a sunny sky

Lingering onward dreamily

In an evening of July--




Children three that nestle near,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Pleased a simple tale to hear--




Long has paled that sunny sky;

Echoes fade and memories die;

Autumn frosts have slain July.




Still she haunts me, phantomwise,

Alice moving under skies

Never seen by waking eyes.




Children yet, the tale to hear,

Eager eye and willing ear,

Lovingly shall nestle near.




In a Wonderland they lie,

Dreaming as the days go by,

Dreaming as the summers die;




Ever drifting down the stream--

Lingering in the golden gleam--

Life, what is it but a dream?