نصیر احمد ناصر کی نظمیں

نصیر احمد ناصر کی نظمیں

Mar 17, 2018

انگریزی ترجمے کے ساتھ

دیدبان شمارہ ۔ ۳

چُندھا ۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔ نصیراحمدناصر

اگر کوئی اچانک روشنی کر دے

تو کیا تم دیکھ پاؤ گے؟

وہ سب چیزیں

جو تاریکی کے گہرے اسودی

محلول میں گم ہیں 

سراپا زندگی کا،

موت کا چہرہ،

اداسی کا بدن،

آواز کے لب،

درد کے ڈِمپل،

خوشی کے مرمریں پاؤں،

محبت کی حنائی انگلیاں،

آفاق زلفوں کے،

خدا کا سرمدی سایہ ۔۔۔۔۔۔ 

اگر کوئی اچانک روشنی کر دے

تو کیا تم دیکھ پاؤ گے

ابد کی دھند میں لپٹی

ازل سے منتظر

آنکھیں کسی کی ۔۔۔۔۔۔؟

گلوریا جینز میں شام ۔۔۔۔۔ نصیر احمد ناصر 

آج بہت دنوں بعد

گلوریا جینز میں کافی پیتے ہوئے

آخری سِپ کے ساتھ

شام کو بھی انڈیل لیا ہے منہ میں

معدہ چاکلیٹی تنہائی سے لبا لب ہو گیا ہے

اور تم کاغذی مَگ ہاتھ میں پکڑے

ہمیشہ کی طرح منہ کھولے، ساکت و صامت

ناگاہ ہونے والی اِس ملاقات میں

میری طرف دیکھتے ہوئے سوچ رہی ہو

کہ آفرینش سے پہلے تھما ہُوا وقت

گلوریا جینز میں کیسے آ گیا ہے

 

جب میں نے تمہیں پہلی بار دیکھا تھا

شام اِسی طرح مٹ میلی تھی

تاریخ ابھی شروع نہیں ہوئی تھی

زمین پر صرف جغرافیہ تھا

پرندوں اور جانوروں کا ترتیب دیا ہُوا

اور وقت سایوں کی طرح چلتا تھا

اور تم یونہی حیران و پریشان

میری طرف دیکھ رہی تھیں

 

تم نے کبھی خود کو باخبر نہیں رکھا

تمہیں نہیں معلوم کہ آج کل

میری دنیا چھوٹی سی ہے

عالمِ نبات و حشرات کی طرح

جس میں چیونٹیوں کی قطاریں ہیں

پرندوں کے گھونسلے ہیں

لچک دار پلاسٹک کے سانپ اور کیڑے مکوڑے ہیں

اور آئس ایج کے زمانے سے کھیلنے والا

ایک ننھا نواسا ہے

اس میں حیرت کی کیا بات ہے؟

سائبر ایج کے بچے

کھلونوں سے نہیں زمانوں سے کھیلتے ہیں

اور کھیل ہی کھیل میں

تاریخ کا آغاز ہو جاتا ہے

اور خاتمہ بھی ۔۔۔۔

پانی پر تیرتے مکان اور آبی شاہراہیں

اور مصوروں اور مجسموں کے شہر

آباد ہوتے اور اجڑ جاتے ہیں

بادشاہوں کی میتوں کے ساتھ

ہزاروں مصاحبین زندہ دفن کر دیے جاتے ہیں

اور عہد بہ عہد صدیاں ویران ہو جاتی ہیں

 

تمہیں نہیں یاد کہ دوسری بار

میں نے تمہیں دشمن سرزمینوں کے عین وسط میں دیکھا تھا

زیرِ زمین سرنگوں میں

جھک کر چلتے ہوئے اور رینگتے ہوئے

اور غاروں کے اندر بنے ہوئے گھروں میں

جہاں سوراخوں اور چمنیوں سے تازہ ہوا آتی تھی

گہری نیند میں

خوابوں کو کیمو فلاژ کیے ہوئے

اور ہونٹوں کے بیچ مسکراہٹ کی لکیر کھنچی ہوئی

جیسے دنیا کو دو حصوں میں تقسیم کر دیا گیا ہو

اب تو دنیا اتنے ٹکڑوں میں بٹ چکی ہے

کہ اسے دِکھانے کے لیے

ہاتھوں کی لکیریں بھی ناکافی ہیں

 

اور اِس جگہ

جہاں اب شہر آباد ہے

اور ہم بیٹھے ہوئے ہیں گلوریا جینز میں

میں نے تمہیں آخری بار دیکھا تھا

یہاں چند گھر تھے،

ایک راستہ تھا، ایک موڑ تھا، جہاں میں کھڑا تھا

بدترین شکستوں اور ہزیمتوں کے ساتھ

گلیاں سنسان اور چھتیں خالی تھیں

درختوں اور مکانوں سے دھواں اٹھ رہا تھا

اور تمہاری صرف ایک جھلک تھی

دشمن نے دلوں اور ذہنوں کے سارے رابطے جام کر دیے تھے

پہاڑوں نے ہمیں پناہ نہیں دی تھی

اور بادل بے وقت برس رہے تھے

 

اور آج پھر ۔۔۔۔۔ یگوں بعد

ہم مِلے ہیں گلوریا جینز میں

اور ہمیشہ کی طرح تمہیں نہیں معلوم

کہ ہم ایک ہی ہاؤسنگ سوسائٹی میں رہتے ہیں

ہماری کوئی تاریخ ہے نہ جغرافیہ

بس ایک سوک سینٹر ہے

اور ایک قبرستان

اور گلوریا جینز میں

وقت تھما نہیں، روشنی کی رفتار سے سڑپ رہا ہے!!

 

2 - Poem with English Translation

Purblind 

 Poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir

If someone, all on a sudden, lights up 

then will you be able to see

all those things 

that lie in the depth of darkness 

lost in the dark 

black liquid. 

If someone, all on a sudden, lights up 

then will you be able to see 

The form of life 

facade of death 

body of sadness 

the lips of sound 

dimpled pain 

marbly feet of bliss 

hennaed fingers of love 

horizons of locks, and 

the timeless shadow of God. 

 

If someone, all on a sudden, lights up 

then will you be able to see 

wrapped in the mist of endless time 

waiting from eternity 

someone's eyes ... ?  

(English translation by Bina Biswas)

 

:

 

An Evening At Gloria Jeans -

 Poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir

Today, after so many days

while having coffee at Gloria Jeans…

I have gulped down the evening too

with the last sip

My stomach is now full of

Chocolate solitude

and you, holding the paper mug

in your hands, 

silent and frigid in awe, like always, 

looking at me on this sudden encounter

wondering, how on earth the time

that stood still before the genesis

has found its way to Gloria Jeans?

The evening, I had seen you

for the very first time

was just as murky as it is today

The history wasn't born yet

On the Earth, there was geography

defined by the birds and the animals only

The time used to drift in shadows and you

awestruck and apprehensive like always

were looking at me

You never kept yourself aware of anything

You don't even know that

my world is too small these days

like the realms of flora and pests

in which there are columns of marching ants

and the birds' nests

snakes made of flexible plastic and

the flying and crawling insects

and a little offspring who plays

with the epoch of ice-age

No wonder if he does so

because, the children of cyber-age

play with the eras not with toys

and just like that the history begins

and comes to an end

Boat-houses and the waterways

and the cities full of painters and the sculptures

are established and then ransacked

and with the dead bodies of the kings

thousands of toadies get buried alive too

and just like that, time after time

centuries turn into despair

You don't even remember

that I had seen you the second time

right in the middle of hostile lands

Stooping and crawling

in the underground tunnels

and in the abodes carved into the caves

where ventilation was made possible

through holes and the chimneys

Your dreams camouflaged

even in the deep slumber

and your lips tightly sealed with a grin

as if, if the world was split into two halves

But now, the world has been divided

into so many parts that, to show it to someone

even the lines in a palm are not enough

And right here, at this very place

where this city is hustling and bustling

and we are sitting here in Gloria Jeans

I had seen you for the last time

here, there were only a few dwellings

there was a trail and a bend

where I was standing

With the worst defeats and disgraces

streets were deserted and the rooftops desolate

smoke was rising up from the trees and the abodes

and only a forlorn glimpse of you

The enemy had jammed all the communication

between hearts and the minds

The hills had denied the refuge to us

and the clouds were bursting out of nowhere

And today yet again - after so many ages

we have met at Gloria Jeans

and like always you don't even know

that we live in the same housing society

We have no history, no geography

just one civic center and

a necropolis

and in Gloria Jeans

the time has not come to a standstill

it is striding on a lightening pace…!!!

(English translation by Kamran Awan)

 

I begin with a confession of being an old school in context of literature, both English and Urdu. Blame my limited access to the linguistically lavish Urdu society for my ignorance in modern Urdu poems. To me Urdu was a language of courtly subtlelities abounding in themes of love and separation woven in strict composition of the Ghazal until I was initiated into the poetry of Naseer Ahmed Nasir by a sheer chance. I read and realised that there won't be a turning back for the poems came over me in tidal waves of opulent symbolism, choicest metaphors blended with appealing imagery, his poems slowly grew on me.

Naseer Ahmed Nasir is a distinguished Pakistani poet and the avant garde in modern poems among his contemporaries. A Man Outside History is a collection of hundred and eleven of his poems translated into English by Dr Bina Biswas , a professor of English, a translator, critic, poet and an editor whom I hold in high esteem and believe to be emerging as a powerful writer among the contemporary women writers of India with a delicate way of influencing her readers through her words and ideas.

A foreword with a generous appreciation by none other than Gulzar is no mean feat, indeed, contributing to an affluent language like Urdu is not an easy task and Naseer Ahmed Nasir 's work is more than praise worthy. I liked his relaxed diction quashing the imperative tones in the older styles, especially the Victorian English (very artistically maintained in translation by Bina)This went well with a first timer like me and I loved the approach. There is a stream of consciousness in his poems, a feature of all modern literature but with a facile philosophy, for instance –

Here the span of life 

Is longer than life

Here the dream is unknown to the eyes

On the faces of the new-born here debility spreads fast

The people here are the tired defeated pawns.

He comes across as a mild poet hardly venting fury in his poems but sometimes take you by surprise with a John Donne like anger and cynicism.

Such is a desire to live here

As if a wingless butterfly

And to get a warrant of death too

One has to go to the court.

The poems are free verse yet full of lilting cadences and rhythm limitless in artistic expressions. About the versatility, I agree with Gulzar Sahab, "But see where all this man ventures to find a poem," certainly,

Poem is her pretty nose

Mischief of children is a poem.

Or

In the torture chamber the smothered screams of a prisoner is a poem.

There is a recurring theme of time; the past and present in his poems and he leaps generations back and forth and hence the title of the book as it is. Naseer Ahmed Nasir is an everyone's poet with a meandering imagery and intellectual symbolism for a mature reader to vivid depiction of innocent visuals for children, he has something for everyone. I can read out to my little daughter -

White clouds are making strange faces. 

Look at those bears, watch the columns of elephants.

Early in the book I decided that Lighthouse was my favourite hardly knowing the poet had aces up his sleeve ahead in form of, 'A faraway Village' and 'The Echo of a Greyish Slumber', to sum up these are fine insightful poems.

So how does Bina Biswas fare, translating an exquisitely written work like this? Well, she answers grandeur with a reflection of it's own, she holds up a mirror to the original. Translations of such creative work must be equally creative and Gulzar befittingly twists a Robert Frost quote when he says, "Nothing is lost in translation."

I have always believed that translating is an immensely difficult task, a translator bears the cross of saying what the author said and say it exactly as he said. I heard somewhere that, "Translation is like a woman, if it is beautiful it is not faithful, if it is faithful, it is most certainly not beautiful" Bina stands up to this daunting task with responsibility and effectively defies the saying by handing over a faithful yet most beautiful image of the original. She made a flawless choice of words to replace each Urdu phrase and syllable and has yet maintained the originality. She gave the poems a ticket to travel afar in lands and cultures unaware of Urdu which is great, both for the poet and his readers because tis better to have read a great work of another language in translation then to never have read it.

I would highly recommend this book to snuggle up with on chirpy mornings, lonely afternoons or wintery nights.

Copyright Nikhat Mahmood February 20, 2016.

دیدبان شمارہ ۔ ۳

چُندھا ۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔ نصیراحمدناصر

اگر کوئی اچانک روشنی کر دے

تو کیا تم دیکھ پاؤ گے؟

وہ سب چیزیں

جو تاریکی کے گہرے اسودی

محلول میں گم ہیں 

سراپا زندگی کا،

موت کا چہرہ،

اداسی کا بدن،

آواز کے لب،

درد کے ڈِمپل،

خوشی کے مرمریں پاؤں،

محبت کی حنائی انگلیاں،

آفاق زلفوں کے،

خدا کا سرمدی سایہ ۔۔۔۔۔۔ 

اگر کوئی اچانک روشنی کر دے

تو کیا تم دیکھ پاؤ گے

ابد کی دھند میں لپٹی

ازل سے منتظر

آنکھیں کسی کی ۔۔۔۔۔۔؟

گلوریا جینز میں شام ۔۔۔۔۔ نصیر احمد ناصر 

آج بہت دنوں بعد

گلوریا جینز میں کافی پیتے ہوئے

آخری سِپ کے ساتھ

شام کو بھی انڈیل لیا ہے منہ میں

معدہ چاکلیٹی تنہائی سے لبا لب ہو گیا ہے

اور تم کاغذی مَگ ہاتھ میں پکڑے

ہمیشہ کی طرح منہ کھولے، ساکت و صامت

ناگاہ ہونے والی اِس ملاقات میں

میری طرف دیکھتے ہوئے سوچ رہی ہو

کہ آفرینش سے پہلے تھما ہُوا وقت

گلوریا جینز میں کیسے آ گیا ہے

 

جب میں نے تمہیں پہلی بار دیکھا تھا

شام اِسی طرح مٹ میلی تھی

تاریخ ابھی شروع نہیں ہوئی تھی

زمین پر صرف جغرافیہ تھا

پرندوں اور جانوروں کا ترتیب دیا ہُوا

اور وقت سایوں کی طرح چلتا تھا

اور تم یونہی حیران و پریشان

میری طرف دیکھ رہی تھیں

 

تم نے کبھی خود کو باخبر نہیں رکھا

تمہیں نہیں معلوم کہ آج کل

میری دنیا چھوٹی سی ہے

عالمِ نبات و حشرات کی طرح

جس میں چیونٹیوں کی قطاریں ہیں

پرندوں کے گھونسلے ہیں

لچک دار پلاسٹک کے سانپ اور کیڑے مکوڑے ہیں

اور آئس ایج کے زمانے سے کھیلنے والا

ایک ننھا نواسا ہے

اس میں حیرت کی کیا بات ہے؟

سائبر ایج کے بچے

کھلونوں سے نہیں زمانوں سے کھیلتے ہیں

اور کھیل ہی کھیل میں

تاریخ کا آغاز ہو جاتا ہے

اور خاتمہ بھی ۔۔۔۔

پانی پر تیرتے مکان اور آبی شاہراہیں

اور مصوروں اور مجسموں کے شہر

آباد ہوتے اور اجڑ جاتے ہیں

بادشاہوں کی میتوں کے ساتھ

ہزاروں مصاحبین زندہ دفن کر دیے جاتے ہیں

اور عہد بہ عہد صدیاں ویران ہو جاتی ہیں

 

تمہیں نہیں یاد کہ دوسری بار

میں نے تمہیں دشمن سرزمینوں کے عین وسط میں دیکھا تھا

زیرِ زمین سرنگوں میں

جھک کر چلتے ہوئے اور رینگتے ہوئے

اور غاروں کے اندر بنے ہوئے گھروں میں

جہاں سوراخوں اور چمنیوں سے تازہ ہوا آتی تھی

گہری نیند میں

خوابوں کو کیمو فلاژ کیے ہوئے

اور ہونٹوں کے بیچ مسکراہٹ کی لکیر کھنچی ہوئی

جیسے دنیا کو دو حصوں میں تقسیم کر دیا گیا ہو

اب تو دنیا اتنے ٹکڑوں میں بٹ چکی ہے

کہ اسے دِکھانے کے لیے

ہاتھوں کی لکیریں بھی ناکافی ہیں

 

اور اِس جگہ

جہاں اب شہر آباد ہے

اور ہم بیٹھے ہوئے ہیں گلوریا جینز میں

میں نے تمہیں آخری بار دیکھا تھا

یہاں چند گھر تھے،

ایک راستہ تھا، ایک موڑ تھا، جہاں میں کھڑا تھا

بدترین شکستوں اور ہزیمتوں کے ساتھ

گلیاں سنسان اور چھتیں خالی تھیں

درختوں اور مکانوں سے دھواں اٹھ رہا تھا

اور تمہاری صرف ایک جھلک تھی

دشمن نے دلوں اور ذہنوں کے سارے رابطے جام کر دیے تھے

پہاڑوں نے ہمیں پناہ نہیں دی تھی

اور بادل بے وقت برس رہے تھے

 

اور آج پھر ۔۔۔۔۔ یگوں بعد

ہم مِلے ہیں گلوریا جینز میں

اور ہمیشہ کی طرح تمہیں نہیں معلوم

کہ ہم ایک ہی ہاؤسنگ سوسائٹی میں رہتے ہیں

ہماری کوئی تاریخ ہے نہ جغرافیہ

بس ایک سوک سینٹر ہے

اور ایک قبرستان

اور گلوریا جینز میں

وقت تھما نہیں، روشنی کی رفتار سے سڑپ رہا ہے!!

 

2 - Poem with English Translation

Purblind 

 Poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir

If someone, all on a sudden, lights up 

then will you be able to see

all those things 

that lie in the depth of darkness 

lost in the dark 

black liquid. 

If someone, all on a sudden, lights up 

then will you be able to see 

The form of life 

facade of death 

body of sadness 

the lips of sound 

dimpled pain 

marbly feet of bliss 

hennaed fingers of love 

horizons of locks, and 

the timeless shadow of God. 

 

If someone, all on a sudden, lights up 

then will you be able to see 

wrapped in the mist of endless time 

waiting from eternity 

someone's eyes ... ?  

(English translation by Bina Biswas)

 

:

 

An Evening At Gloria Jeans -

 Poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir

Today, after so many days

while having coffee at Gloria Jeans…

I have gulped down the evening too

with the last sip

My stomach is now full of

Chocolate solitude

and you, holding the paper mug

in your hands, 

silent and frigid in awe, like always, 

looking at me on this sudden encounter

wondering, how on earth the time

that stood still before the genesis

has found its way to Gloria Jeans?

The evening, I had seen you

for the very first time

was just as murky as it is today

The history wasn't born yet

On the Earth, there was geography

defined by the birds and the animals only

The time used to drift in shadows and you

awestruck and apprehensive like always

were looking at me

You never kept yourself aware of anything

You don't even know that

my world is too small these days

like the realms of flora and pests

in which there are columns of marching ants

and the birds' nests

snakes made of flexible plastic and

the flying and crawling insects

and a little offspring who plays

with the epoch of ice-age

No wonder if he does so

because, the children of cyber-age

play with the eras not with toys

and just like that the history begins

and comes to an end

Boat-houses and the waterways

and the cities full of painters and the sculptures

are established and then ransacked

and with the dead bodies of the kings

thousands of toadies get buried alive too

and just like that, time after time

centuries turn into despair

You don't even remember

that I had seen you the second time

right in the middle of hostile lands

Stooping and crawling

in the underground tunnels

and in the abodes carved into the caves

where ventilation was made possible

through holes and the chimneys

Your dreams camouflaged

even in the deep slumber

and your lips tightly sealed with a grin

as if, if the world was split into two halves

But now, the world has been divided

into so many parts that, to show it to someone

even the lines in a palm are not enough

And right here, at this very place

where this city is hustling and bustling

and we are sitting here in Gloria Jeans

I had seen you for the last time

here, there were only a few dwellings

there was a trail and a bend

where I was standing

With the worst defeats and disgraces

streets were deserted and the rooftops desolate

smoke was rising up from the trees and the abodes

and only a forlorn glimpse of you

The enemy had jammed all the communication

between hearts and the minds

The hills had denied the refuge to us

and the clouds were bursting out of nowhere

And today yet again - after so many ages

we have met at Gloria Jeans

and like always you don't even know

that we live in the same housing society

We have no history, no geography

just one civic center and

a necropolis

and in Gloria Jeans

the time has not come to a standstill

it is striding on a lightening pace…!!!

(English translation by Kamran Awan)

 

I begin with a confession of being an old school in context of literature, both English and Urdu. Blame my limited access to the linguistically lavish Urdu society for my ignorance in modern Urdu poems. To me Urdu was a language of courtly subtlelities abounding in themes of love and separation woven in strict composition of the Ghazal until I was initiated into the poetry of Naseer Ahmed Nasir by a sheer chance. I read and realised that there won't be a turning back for the poems came over me in tidal waves of opulent symbolism, choicest metaphors blended with appealing imagery, his poems slowly grew on me.

Naseer Ahmed Nasir is a distinguished Pakistani poet and the avant garde in modern poems among his contemporaries. A Man Outside History is a collection of hundred and eleven of his poems translated into English by Dr Bina Biswas , a professor of English, a translator, critic, poet and an editor whom I hold in high esteem and believe to be emerging as a powerful writer among the contemporary women writers of India with a delicate way of influencing her readers through her words and ideas.

A foreword with a generous appreciation by none other than Gulzar is no mean feat, indeed, contributing to an affluent language like Urdu is not an easy task and Naseer Ahmed Nasir 's work is more than praise worthy. I liked his relaxed diction quashing the imperative tones in the older styles, especially the Victorian English (very artistically maintained in translation by Bina)This went well with a first timer like me and I loved the approach. There is a stream of consciousness in his poems, a feature of all modern literature but with a facile philosophy, for instance –

Here the span of life 

Is longer than life

Here the dream is unknown to the eyes

On the faces of the new-born here debility spreads fast

The people here are the tired defeated pawns.

He comes across as a mild poet hardly venting fury in his poems but sometimes take you by surprise with a John Donne like anger and cynicism.

Such is a desire to live here

As if a wingless butterfly

And to get a warrant of death too

One has to go to the court.

The poems are free verse yet full of lilting cadences and rhythm limitless in artistic expressions. About the versatility, I agree with Gulzar Sahab, "But see where all this man ventures to find a poem," certainly,

Poem is her pretty nose

Mischief of children is a poem.

Or

In the torture chamber the smothered screams of a prisoner is a poem.

There is a recurring theme of time; the past and present in his poems and he leaps generations back and forth and hence the title of the book as it is. Naseer Ahmed Nasir is an everyone's poet with a meandering imagery and intellectual symbolism for a mature reader to vivid depiction of innocent visuals for children, he has something for everyone. I can read out to my little daughter -

White clouds are making strange faces. 

Look at those bears, watch the columns of elephants.

Early in the book I decided that Lighthouse was my favourite hardly knowing the poet had aces up his sleeve ahead in form of, 'A faraway Village' and 'The Echo of a Greyish Slumber', to sum up these are fine insightful poems.

So how does Bina Biswas fare, translating an exquisitely written work like this? Well, she answers grandeur with a reflection of it's own, she holds up a mirror to the original. Translations of such creative work must be equally creative and Gulzar befittingly twists a Robert Frost quote when he says, "Nothing is lost in translation."

I have always believed that translating is an immensely difficult task, a translator bears the cross of saying what the author said and say it exactly as he said. I heard somewhere that, "Translation is like a woman, if it is beautiful it is not faithful, if it is faithful, it is most certainly not beautiful" Bina stands up to this daunting task with responsibility and effectively defies the saying by handing over a faithful yet most beautiful image of the original. She made a flawless choice of words to replace each Urdu phrase and syllable and has yet maintained the originality. She gave the poems a ticket to travel afar in lands and cultures unaware of Urdu which is great, both for the poet and his readers because tis better to have read a great work of another language in translation then to never have read it.

I would highly recommend this book to snuggle up with on chirpy mornings, lonely afternoons or wintery nights.

Copyright Nikhat Mahmood February 20, 2016.

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خریدیں

رابطہ

مدیران دیدبان

مندرجات

شمارہ جات

PRIVACY POLICY

Terms & Conditions

Cancellation and Refund

Shipping and exchange

All Rights Reserved © 2024

خریدیں

رابطہ

مدیران دیدبان

مندرجات

شمارہ جات

PRIVACY POLICY

Terms & Conditions

Cancellation and Refund

Shipping and exchange

All Rights Reserved © 2024