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inqelaab aur shaa’er-tarjuma-shahed

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For word meanings and explanatory discussion in English click on the tabs marked “Roman” or “Notes”.

https://urdushahkar.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/sms-inqelaab-aur-shaaer.mp3

Recitation

  • اُردو
  • देवनागरी
  • Roman
  • Notes
  • Poems of Resistance
  • NY Times Article

    • اِنقلاب اور شاعر ۔ ترجمہ شاہد

    مِینمار کے شعرا

    ۱

    وہ سروں پہ گولی مارتے ہیں

    نہیں جانتے

    کہ اِنقلاب دلوں میں پھلتے ہیں

    ۲

    یہ ڈر ہے کہ خون سرد نہ ہو جائے

    خون سے خون ملاؤ کہ احتجاج بڑھے

    ۳

    تاریک راتیں

    بڑی طویل ہیں لیکن

    صبح ضرور آئے گی

    اِرادہ دلیروں نے کیا ہے

    کہ تیرگی پہ روشنی کی فتح ہوگی

    ۴

    وہ شاعروں کے بدن جلاتے ہیں

    اُن پہ ظاہر یہ ہوا، صرف کتاب جلانے کا دھواں

    احتجاج کا دم گھٹا نہیں سکتا

    ۵

    اُنہوں نے شاعر کے بدن جلائے، یہ نہیں جانتے

    کہ اس راکھ سے دھرتی زر خیز ہوتی ہے

    इन्क़लाब और शा’एर – तर्जुमा शाहेद

    मियनमार के शो’अरा

    १

    वो सरौ पे गोली मारते हैं

    नहीं जानते

    के इन्क़लाब दिलौं में फलते हैं

    २

    ये डर है के ख़ून सर्द न हो जाए

    ख़ून से ख़ुन मीलाओ के एहतेजाह बढ़े

    ३

    तारीक रातें

    बढी तवील हैं लैकिन

    सुबह ज़रूर आएगी

    इरादा दिलेरौं ने किया है

    के तीरगी पे रौशनी की फ़तह होगी

    ४

    वो शाएरौं के बदन जलाते हैं

    उन पे ज़ाहर ये हुआ, सिर्फ़ किताब जलाने का धुआं

    एहतजाज का दम घुटा नहीं सकता

    ५

    उन्हों ने शाएर के बदन जलाए, ये नहीं जानते

    के इस राख से धर्ती ज़र-ख़ेज़ होती है

     

    Click here for background and on any passage for word meanings and explanatory discussion. The military junta kept killing shu’ara one after another. Others stepped forward to take their place. See NYTimes article. The original, has names of poets and their photographs.

    1
    vo saroN pe goli maarte haiN
    nahiN jaante
    keh inqilaab1 diloN meN phalte haiN    1.revolution
    They shoot at heads
    But they do not know
    That revolution lives in the heart.
    2
    ye Dar hai, keh KhooN sard1 na ho jaaye
    Khoon se Khoon milaao keh ehtejaaj2 baRhe    1.cold 2.protest
    Don’t let your blood run cold
    Pool your blood for this fight.
    3
    taariik1 raateN
    baRi taveel2 haiN laikin
    sub’h zaruur aayegi
    iraada3 dileroN4 ne kiya hai
    keh tiiragi5 pe raushni ki fatah6 ho    1.dark 2.long 3.determination 4.brave 5.darkness 6.triumph
    Dark nights
    They linger too long.
    It will be dawn
    For it is the duty of those who dare
    To conquer the dark and usher in the light.
    4
    vo shaa’eroN ke badan1 jalaate haiN
    un pe zaahir2 ye hua sirf3 kitaab jalaane ka dhuaaN
    ehtejaaj4 ka dam ghuTa5 nahiN sakta    1.bodies 2.apparent 3.only 4.protest 5.choke
    They began to burn the poets
    When the smoke of burned books could
    No longer choke the lungs heavy with dissent.
    5
    unhoN ne shaa’er ke badan1 jalaaye, ye nahiN jaante
    keh is raakh se dharti2 zar-Khez3 hoti hai    1.bodies 2.earth 3.yeilding gold, fertile
    They started to burn the poets
    But ash makes for more fertile soil.

    The military junta kept killing shu’ara one after another.  Others stepped forward to take their place.  See NYTimes article.  The original, has names of poets and their photographs.

    1
    vo saroN pe goli maarte haiN
    nahiN jaante
    keh inqilaab1 diloN meN phalte haiN

    1.revolution

    They shoot at heads

    But they do not know
    That revolution lives in the heart.
    2
    ye Dar hai, keh KhooN sard1 na ho jaaye
    Khoon se Khoon milaao keh ehtejaaj2 baRhe

    1.cold 2.protest

    Don’t let your blood run cold

    Pool your blood for this fight.
    3
    taariik1 raateN
    baRi taveel2 haiN laikin
    sub’h zaruur aayegi
    iraada3 dileroN4 ne kiya hai
    keh tiiragi5 pe raushni ki fatah6 ho

    1.dark 2.long 3.determination 4.brave 5.darkness 6.triumph

    Dark nights

    They linger too long.
    It will be dawn
    For it is the duty of those who dare
    To conquer the dark and usher in the light.
    4
    vo shaa’eroN ke badan1 jalaate haiN
    un pe zaahir2 ye hua sirf3 kitaab jalaane ka dhuaaN
    ehtejaaj4 ka dam ghuTa5 nahiN sakta

    1.bodies 2.apparent 3.only 4.protest 5.choke

    They began to burn the poets

    When the smoke of burned books could
    No longer choke the lungs heavy with dissent.
    5
    unhoN ne shaa’er ke badan1 jalaaye, ye nahiN jaante
    keh is raakh se dharti2 zar-Khez3 hoti hai

    1.bodies 2.earth 3.yeilding gold, fertile

    They started to burn the poets

    But ash makes for more fertile soil.

    Poems of Resistance – Burma

    1
    They shoot at heads
    But they do not know
    That revolution lives in the heart.
    2
    Don’t let your blood run cold
    Pool your blood for this fight.
    3
    Dark nights
    They linger too long.
    It will be dawn
    For it is the duty of those who dare
    To conquer the dark and usher in the light.
    4
    They began to burn the poets
    When the smoke of burned books could
    No longer choke the lungs heavy with dissent.
    5
    They started to burn the poets
    But ash makes for more fertile soil.

    By Hannah Beech

    May 25, 2021Updated 11:20 a.m. ET

    After the first and second poets were killed, the third poet wrote a poem.

    They shoot at heads

    But they do not know
    That revolution lives in the heart.

    After the third poet was killed, the fourth poet wrote a poem.

    Don’t let your blood run cold

    Pool your blood for this fight.

    After the fourth poet was killed, his body consumed by fire on May 14, there was no verse. At least for a moment.

    Poetry remains alive in Myanmar, where unconventional weapons are being used to fight a military that has killed more than 800 people since it staged a coup on Feb. 1 and ousted an elected government. For some democracy activists, their politics cannot be separated from their poetry.

    Sensing the power of carefully chosen words, the generals have imprisoned more than 30 poets since the putsch, according to the National Poets’ Union. At least four have been killed, all from the township of Monywa, which is nestled in the hot plains of central Myanmar and has emerged as a center of fierce resistance to the coup.
    “Anti-authoritarian sentiments have always been in the flesh and blood of poets,” said U Yee Mon, a poet who also serves as the defense minister for a shadow democratic government that is challenging Myanmar’s junta from jungle redoubts. “The people with weapons are afraid of pen-wielding hands.”

    The resistance to Myanmar’s military, which has dominated the country since its independence from Britain, has inspired people from all walks of life. Students and beauty queens have protested, as have doctors and engineers. Poets have joined the protests, too, their rhyming couplets providing battle cries for the movement.

    The first poets to be killed by security forces in the aftermath of the coup were Ko Chan Thar Swe and Ma Myint Myint Zin. One was shot in the head and the other in the chest during a mass protest in Monywa in early March.
    Mr. Chan Thar Swe had left the Buddhist monkhood to write poetry more than a dozen years ago, a move that shocked his family, which had basked in the prestige of having a cleric among them, said his sister Ma Khin Sandar Win. His poems, written under the pen name K Za Win, were full of a vigor that belied his monastic background.
    His political activism, on behalf of land, education and environmental causes, landed him in prison in 2015. Dozens of poets shared the same fate. Mr. Chan Thar Swe composed in his cell, the poems crowding his head. By then, prisoners were allowed books, but not pens. So he memorized his verse. The rigor helped clarify his poetry, which is free of excess. Five days after the coup, he wrote “Revolution.”

    Dark nights

    They linger too long.

    The poem ends on a hopeful note.

    It will be dawn

    For it is the duty of those who dare
    To conquer the dark and usher in the light.

    On March 4, his sister received a police summons to the Monywa mortuary. She identified her brother’s body, Ms. Khin Sandar Win said. A bullet hole punctured his left temple. A long slash ran down his torso.

    The family wondered whether the gash signaled that his internal organs had been removed, a desecration increasingly found among those killed by the military in Myanmar. But Mr. Chan Thar Swe was cremated before his relatives could find out more.
    His mother now spends her days looking at photographs of him, her oldest child, on Facebook. Along with his ashes, it is all she has of him.
    “My brother did not support us financially because he was a poet, but he protected us whenever we needed,” Ms. Khin Sandar Win said.
    At Mr. Chan Thar Swe’s funeral, another poet, Ko Khet Thi, recited a poem he had written for those killed by the security forces, many with a single bullet to the head and some when they were not even protesting.

    They began to burn the poets

    When the smoke of burned books could
    No longer choke the lungs heavy with dissent.

    Weeks after the funeral, Mr. Khet Thi, a onetime engineer, was hauled into detention and later turned up dead, according to his family. His corpse also had an unexplained incision down his torso, the family said.

    “I am also afraid that I will get arrested and killed, but I will keep fighting,” said Ko Kyi Zaw Aye, yet another poet from Monywa who was close to both men.

    Political poetry in Myanmar dates to the days when Burmese kingdoms employed troubadours to galvanize soldiers before battle. When the population chafed at the oppression of the British Empire, poets led the charge in the independence movement.

    The lyricism of the Burmese language, with its rhyming syllables and vivid imagery built into everyday phrases, helped to elevate poetry as a potent national art form. It also helped camouflage true meanings, an important tool when dealing with censorious colonial administrators or army generals.

    In 2015, when the National League for Democracy challenged the military’s proxy party in the first free and fair parliamentary elections in a generation, the party fielded nearly a dozen poets, all of whom won. Mr. Yee Mon, the shadow government’s defense minister, was one such victor.
    He defeated the former defense minister in a district where many soldiers and police officers voted. A rapper and a painter prevailed in other races, part of the National League for Democracy’s overwhelming victory, which was repeated last November with an even more resounding performance.
    Last week, a junta-appointed official said the party was full of “traitors” and might be dissolved. The party’s leader, Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, appeared in court on Monday, the first time she had been seen in person since most of the country’s elected leadership was jailed in the military coup.
    When some poets spent time behind bars, they sometimes used rocks to carve the curved Burmese script of their poems onto cell walls. Mr. Yee Mon relied on a bit of metal against plastic to record his words.

    Even after the democratic opposition began to share power with the military in 2015, poets still were dispatched to prison. One, Ko Maung Saungkha, wrote a poem about having tattooed his penis with a reference to a former president handpicked by the army. He was imprisoned for six months in 2016, despite having made clear that such a tattoo did not, in fact, exist.

    The intertwining of dissent and poetry has continued.
    U Sein Win was a National League for Democracy stalwart in Monywa. He painted and carved wood. He wrote poetry and plays. When he spoke, his hands danced with his words. His long hair framed his face.
    On the morning of May 14, an assailant threw a bucket of gasoline on Mr. Sein Win, 60, and lit a match, according to his daughter, Ma Thin Thin Nwe. His facial features melted away. He died that night. Since the coup, more than a dozen democratic politicians, activists and ordinary people have died from such unexplained assaults.

    At Mr. Chan Thar Swe’s funeral, weeks before he was killed himself, Mr. Khet Thi prophesied the destructive power of fire and the rebirth that follows.

    They started to burn the poets

    But ash makes for more fertile soil.

    The post inqelaab aur shaa’er-tarjuma-shahed appeared first on UrduShahkar.

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