Love-Past.

By Faiz
For Pakistan

One of my favourite pieces of poetry...
Made me cry tonight.
One night after 8/10/2005.

Mujhse Pahalli Sii Mohabbat

mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat, mere mahaboob, na maang
maine samajhaa thaa ke tuu hai to daraKshaan hai hayaat
teraa Gam hai to Gam-e-dahar kaa jhagaRaa kyaa hai
terii suurat se hai aalam mein bahaaron ko sabaat
terii aaNkhon ke sivaa duniyaa mein rakhaa kyaa hai
tu jo mil jaae to taqadiir nigon ho jaae
yun na thaa, maine faqat chaahaa thaa yun ho jaae
aur bhii dukh hain zamaane mein mohabbat ke sivaa
raahatein aur bhii hain vasl kii raahat ke sivaa
mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat, mere mahaboob, na maaNg

anaginat sadiyon ke taariik bahimaanaa talism
resh-o-aThalas-o-kamaKaab-o-baazaar mein jism
Kaak mein litaRe hue Kuun mein nahalaae hue
jism nikale hue amaraaz ke tanavvuron se
piip bahatii huii galate hue naasuuron se
lauT jaatii hai idhar ko bhii nazar kyaa kiije
ab bhii dilakash hai teraa husn, maGar kyaa kiije
aur bhii dukh hain zamaane mein mohabbat ke sivaa
raahate.n aur bhii hai.n vasl kii raahat ke sivaa

mujh se pahalii sii mohabbat, mere mahaboob, na maang

---

Loved One,

Do Not Ask Me, for the love-past.

Do not ask me
For that past love
When I thought
You alone illumined
This entire world
And because of you
The sorrows of life
Did not matter.
I thought
Your beauty game permanence
To the colors of spring
And your eyes were
The only stars
In the universe.
I thought
If I could only make you mine
Destiny would, forever, be
In my hands.
Now I know
There are afflictions
Which have nothing to do with desire
Raptures
Which have nothing to do with love.

On the dark loom of history
Woven into
Silk, damask, and goldcloth
Is the oppressive enigma
Of our lives.
Everywhere--
In the valleys and bazaars--
Human flesh is being sold--
Throbbing between layers of dust--
Bathed in blood.
The furnace of poverty and disease
Disgorges body after body--
Your beauty is still
A river of gems
But now I know
There are afflictions
Which have nothing to do with desire
Raptures
Which have nothing to do with love.

My love, do not ask me ...
for the love-past.