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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
Related Recs
Are they the tingling feelings that you look back at or the fragments of memories that you struggle to picture in your head? Do you ever miss a person that you don’t even know? Perhaps it is an idea, a concept or a thought.
You are trying to create the perfect person that will understand you, tame you and love you just like how you would. You do not seek for reciprocated love - you always feel like you want to give more and love more. It is your way of loving and who is to complain?
However, a part of you aches knowing that someday when the time comes and you lay down onto a field taking your final breaths, you probably would have wanted someone to just whisper on how much they adore you, just like how ‘night breezes seem to whisper ‘I love you.’’.
Gentleness but also full with affection.
Somebody who can withstand you during your energetic moments and your burnt out times. Someone who will stay next to you no wonder what; someone who is not afraid to present their emotions for you and only you.
Someone who will try everything just to love you, get back to you no matter what.
And I promise, from the deepest roots of my heart, that I will dearly love them where every moment would feel like the first time - the rushed heartbeats, flowing hormones, aching hearts and locked eyes. We will love the way that we do - and it may be similar to others - but in the end, we know that what we have is different and special for ourselves.
Beethoven’s ‘Fur Elise’. The strong faith in love that was driven between Schumann, Brahms and Clara.
Like how one composes songs dedicated for another and one paints in shades of pastels reminiscing of their significant other. Like the love letters written in ink that took quite a while to pick out at the store, wrapped in delicate enveloped covered with kiss marks. Like the singing and humming dedicated for the ears of the other.
It is what you want, and therefore you wait - for who knows how long, expecting that person, who will achieve accomplishment throughout a journey together with you.
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Hello! This is my first entry hereeee:)
The picture was carefully brought here from pinterest and was in my album, I do not know any individual in the photo but they gave me great inspiration on writing this piece. The photo really speaks warmth and radiates energy IMO - so romantic!
Jan 28, 2025
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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
Dec 7, 2023
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i can’t listen to music without thinking about her. every piece of shitty poetry that condemns my for you page makes me think of her in our living room. she is holding bills as she sits on our couch, a calculator on the table and a glass in the other hand. i will ask her what she wants for dinner, and she will tell me.
there’s something so guttural about knowing you want to love someone for the rest of your life. that little moments like a dinner order are exactly what will give you the drive to wake up and slave away to a 9 to 5. ive been thinking about what i wanna be a lot lately. i think it’s honestly teaching. philosophy. i like to imagine myself as a philosophy professor discussing love with my students, i would tell them about my little artist at home and our baby girl and how i too thought marriage was simply the removal of autonomy until it befell my door.
i think that’s a normal way to feel, with tubes of “the good ol ball and chain” and “can’t live with her can’t live without her“ down our throats like prospective foie gras.
but my love is gentle. it is patient. it is kind.
Mar 16, 2025
Top Recs from @hishu
Here's a little collage I made of old Urdu adverts and posters from 1930s-1970s Pakistan (and colonial India)!
There's also a really funny intro to a short story, titled "Gunah" or "Sin." I think it's meant to be a "sexy story" but I was never able to find the rest of the page.
I stumbled upon it again. Cool to see marketing from my great great grandparents' time!
Jan 5, 2025
Jan 12, 2025
Did anyone grow up with these? I spent a good chunk of my life in the middle east and these were pretty popular. They used to put them out at the Nandos by my house. Now I'm back in North America and I fear these sexys are region locked
Jan 23, 2025