Faiz Ahmad Faiz (1914-1978): Selected Poems
One of the foremost
poets in the Indian sub-continent, Faiz Ahmed Faiz was born in Sialkot in
Pakistan. He studied philosophy and English literature, but poetry and politics
preoccupied him more than anything else. For writing poetry that always
antagonizes the ruling Žlite and challenges colonial and feudal values, like
such rebellious writers as Ngugi of Kenya and Darwish of Palestine, Faiz had to
go to jail repeatedly during both colonial and postcolonial times in Pakistan.
Inspired by the Marxist ideology, Faiz's poetry exhibits a strong sense of
commitment to lower-class people, yet it always maintains a unique beauty
nourished by the long, rich tradition of Urdu literature. His love poems are as
appealing as his political poems, and he is considered primarily responsible for
shaping poetic diction in contemporary Urdu poetry. Which poems deal with love,
and which ones with politics? What evidence is there that Faiz is a courageous
poet? What is his attitude towards loneliness and death?
Loneliness
Loneliness like a good, old friend
visits
my house to pour wine in the evening.
And we sit together, waiting for the
moon,
and for your face to sparkle in every shadow.
Last
Night
Last night your lost memory visited my heart
as spring
visits the wilderness quietly,
as the breeze echoes the silence of her
footfalls
in the desert,
as peace slowly, softly descends on one's
sickness.
Tonight
Do not strike the chord of
sorrow tonight!
Days burning with pain turn to ashes.
Who knows what
happens tomorrow?
Last night is lost; tomorrow's frontier wiped out:
Who
knows if there will be another dawn?
Life is nothing, it's only
tonight!
Tonight we can be what the gods are!
Do not strike the chord
of sorrow, tonight!
Do not repeat stories of sufferings now,
Do not
complain, let your fate play its role,
Do not think of tomorrows, give a
damn--
Shed no tears for seasons gone by,
All sighs and cries wind up
their tales,
Oh, do not strike the same chord again!
Speak
Speak, your lips are free.
Speak,
it is your own tongue.
Speak, it is your own body.
Speak, your life is
still yours.
See how in the blacksmith's shop
The flame burns wild,
the iron glows red;
The locks open their jaws,
And every chain begins to
break.
Speak, this brief hour is long enough
Before the death of body
and tongue:
Speak, 'cause the truth is not dead yet,
Speak, speak,
whatever you must speak.
Stanza
If they
snatch my ink and pen,
I should not complain,
For I have dipped my
fingers
In the blood of my heart.
I should not complain
Even if they
seal my tongue,
For every ring of my chain
Is a tongue ready to
speak.
My Interview
The wall has grown all
black, upto the circling roof.
Roads are empty, travellers all gone. Once
again
My night begins to converse with its loneliness;
My visitor I feel
has come once again.
Henna stains one palm, blood wets another;
One eye
poisons, the other cures.
None leaves or enters my heart's
lodging;
Loneliness leaves the flower of pain unwatered,
Who is there to
fill the cup of its wound with color?
My visitor I feel has come once
again,
Of her own will, my old friend--her name
Is Death: a friend in
need, yet an enemy--
The murderess and the sweetheart!
Translated by Azfar Hussain