Wonderful ghazal, wonderfully translated by Prof Nicholas Boylston:
Translation:
They say, “The king of love has no loyalty.”
It’s a lie.
They say, “The morning does not lead to eve.”
It’s a lie.
They say, “Why do you kill yourselves for the sake of love?
After the annihilation of the body nothing remains.”
It’s a lie.
They say, “Those tears you weep for love are pointless for
Once the eyes are closed there’s no reunion.”
It’s a lie.
They say that once we quit the wheel of time
Our soul will not continue on its way.
It’s a lie.
Thus say the ones not freed from fantasy,
“The stories of the prophets are all fantasy.”
It’s a lie.
Thus say the ones who travel not the righteous path,
“There’s no way the slave will ever reach the Lord.”
It’s a lie.
They say, “The One Who knows the secrets of all hearts
Never speaks the mysteries directly to His slave.”
It’s a lie.
They say, “The secret of the heart is never opened to the slave,
And grace will never lift the servant to the skies.”
It’s a lie.
They say, “The one whose clay was kneaded from the dust
Will never come to know the heavenly folk.”
It’s a lie.
They say that every mote of bad and good was not bestowed
By the Sun of Truth upon the people.
It’s a lie.
Be silent, and if anyone should tell you
There is no way to speak save sound and words…
It’s a lie.
Thanks to Serdar Kiliç for introducing me to this poem and translating it:
Translation
Why do you groan, O Watermill; For I’ve troubles, I groan
I fell in love with the Lord; For It do I groan
They found me on a mountain; My arms and wings they plucked
Saw me fit for a watermill; For I’ve troubles, I groan
From the mountain they cut my wood; My disparate order they ruined
But an unwearied poet I am; For I’ve troubles, I groan
I am The Troubled Watermill; My water flows, roaring and rumbling
Thus has God commanded; For I’ve troubles, I groan
I am but a mountain’s tree; Neither am I bitter, nor sweet
I am but a pleader to the Lord; For I’ve troubles, I groan
Yunus, whoever comes here will find no joy, will not reach his desire
Nobody stays in this fleeting abode; For I’ve troubles, I groan
Original:
Dolap niçin inilersin; Derdim vardır inilerim,
Ben Mevla’ya aşık oldum; Onun için inilerim,
Beni bir dağda buldular; Kolum kanadım yoldular,
Dolaba layık gördüler; Derdim vardır inilerim,
Dağdan kestiler hezenim; Bozuldu türlü düzenim,
Ben usanmaz bir ozanım; Derdim vardır inilerim,
Benim adım dertli dolap; Suyum akar yalap yalap,
Böyle emreylemiş Çalap; Derdim vardır inilerim,
Ben bir dağın ağacıyım; Ne tatlıyım ne acıyım,
Ben Mevlaya duacıyım; Derdim vardır inilerim,
Yunus bunda gelen gülmez; Kişi muradına ermez,
Bu fanide kimse kalmaz; Derdim vardır inilerim
I was recently introduced to this amazing 20th-century Urdu Sufi poet and scholar (he translated and Ibn al-‘Arabi’s Fuṣūṣ al-Hikam and Futūḥāt al-Makkiyya and al-Ḥallāj’s Kitāb al-Ṭawāsīn into Urdu) in these beautiful translations by Amer Latif from this article:
Latif, Amer. “Ẕahīn Shāh Tājī’s (d. 1978) Signs of Beauty (Āyāt-i Jamāl).” Journal of Sufi Studies 10, no. 1-2 (2021): 215-233.
