Mirza Ghalib: What Cannot be Said (from Persian)

What Cannot be Said
Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib

There's one who took my heart away.
But does she own it? I can't say.

See her as unjust though I may,
Is she a tyrant? I can't say.

She strides a bloodless battlefield
Where there's no battle-axe to wield.

She keeps a wineless banquet-hall
Where there's no bowl to raise at all.

Although she serves wine ceaselessly,
Her fingers bring no cup to me.

Her idol-carving hand is sure,
But you cannot call her Āzer1

When riots quiet down, why must
You brag of ousting the unjust?

There will be nothing you can say
Of the unjust on Judgment Day.

Within the breast the secret lies
Which none can ever sermonize.2

How strange a thing it is that throws
The mind askew till no one knows

How I Ghalib am no believer
But can't be called unfaithful either.


Note

1Āzer- in the Islamic tradition, Abraham's father who manufactured and served Nimrod's idols. Known as Terah in the Judeo-Christian tradition.

2This is stanza a reference to Mansur al-Hallaj, a Sufi master of the 9th and 10th centuries. Many Sufis felt that it was inappropriate to share mystic secrets with the masses, yet al-Hallaj did so openly, demonstrating what he claimed to be miracles (i.e. sleights of hand) to any and all who cared to observe. He would occasionally fall into trances which he attributed to being in the presence of God. During one of these trances, he uttered the Arabic words: أنا الحق‎ Anā l-Ḥaqq "I am The Truth." This was taken to mean that he was claiming to be God, since al-Ḥaqq "the Truth" is one of the names of God. For this, he was imprisoned and ultimately hanged. Later Sufis took his death as a warning that mystical truths are meant to remain secret.

The Original:

دل برد و حق آنست كه دلبر نتوان گفت
بيداد توان ديد و ستمگر نتوان گفت

در رزمگهش ناچخ و خنجر نتوان برد
در بزمگهش باده و ساغر نتوان گفت

پيوسته دهد باده و ساقى نتوان خواند
همواره تراشد بت و آزر نتوان گفت

هنگامه سرآمد، چه زنى لاف تظلم؟
گر خود ستمى رفت، بمحشر نتوان گفت.

آن راز كه در سينه نهانست و نه وعظست
بر دار توان گفت و بمنبر نتوان گفت.

كارى عجب افتاد بدين شيفته مارا
مؤمن نبود غالب و كافر نتوان گفت.

4 comments:

Beatrice said...

Very interesting poem.

A.Z. Foreman said...

Yeah. I'm not sure how well it can be made to make sense in English.

windwheel said...

Kudos! A very accomplished translation and a truly mind boggling site.
Ghalib presents a real dilemma- was he merely a facile versifier or a deep thinker? On the one hand there is a sort of autistic preoccupation with 'daqiiq' 'delicacy of thought' and 'ma'ni afrini' (a metaphor being treated as a fact so as to create another metaphor) but, at the same time, such a egotistic and self-aware poetic persona... how are we to make sense of him, let alone translate him?
I am reminded of Ibn Arabi's dictum ' lâ takrâr fi’l-tajallî' (there is no repetition in the theophany)- if we receive the same meaning twice we aren't really reading the poem correctly, or, worse, we aren't alive, we aren't even in barzakh-limbo, we're just nothing.
Great stuff any road. Keep it up.

Anonymous said...

in a word wonderful,Dr.Kayes

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