THE BEST OF MAHJOOR
(Selections from Mahjoor's Kashmiri Poems)
J&K Academy of Art, Culture and Languages, Srinagar, 1989  
Translated by: Triloki Nath Raina
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Poem #1&2

Poem #3&4

Poem #5&6

Poem #7&8

Poem #9&10

Poem #11&12

Poem #13&14

Poem #15&16

Poem #17&18

Poem #19&20

Poem #21&22

Poem #23&24

Poem #25&26

Poem #29&30

Poem #31&32

Poem #33&34

Poem #35&36

Poem #37&38

Poem #39&40

Poem #41&42

Poem #43&44

Poem #45&46

Poem #47&48

Poem #49&50

Poem #51&52

Poem #53&54

Poem #55&56

Poem #57&58

Poem #59&60

Poem #61&62

Poem #63&64

Poem #65&66

Poem #67&68

Poem #69&70

Poem #71&72

Poem #73&74

Poem #75&76

Poem #77&78

Poem # 27

maaramati aawara karthas ......



   
Beloved, you drove me distracted,
    But you could also save me now !
    Come by surprise, and fill thirsty cups
    With the wine of love.
   
    My broken heart lies captive
    In the garden of love.
    Couldn't you spare an odd moment
    Just to watch the fun ?
   
    A beggar of love stands at your door,
    Asking for your charity;
    Wouldn't a few words from you shame
    The world's choicest sweets ?
   
    Your coming caused a frenzied bloom
    In Nishat and Shalamar.
    Cross the Dal again, O lover of flowers,
    To set the whole lake in bloom !
   
    See what present I've brought for you -
    The pupils of my eyes !
    Won't you accept them and use them
    As gems to adorn your ear rings ?
   
    I said: Beloved, you broke faith,
    Reducing me to ashes.
    He called me void of love,
    For love wouldn't question faith !
   
    Couldn't you have shown mercy,
    When you stole my heart,
    In not burning even the seat
    Where my heart was lodged ?
   
    Mahjoor's gazals play fresh tunes
    On the harp of love.
    You could read them to know to whom
    He sings and what he says.


  


Poem # 28

malaala travith tsu saala yikhnaa.....



    I'll make garlands of flowers
    And fill cups of wine for you,
    For to think of you is ecstasy !
    O, leave your frowns and come !
   
    I hear you are at Zabarwan,
    With your bow strung for game.
    I'll row across from Naseem Bagh,
    To offer my head for your aim.
   
    The thrush and the lark sing of my grief
    At being torn from you !
    O. who will play you this symphony,
    My sweetheart, when I'm gone ?
   
    I bloomed in the forest as a Shravan jessamine,
    Lying ever in wait for you !
    You haven't seen my summer bloom;
    I'll fade with the autumn wind !
   
    You hid yourself, and wasted me.
    Who whispered what to make you cold ?
    But I'll pursue you as a mendicant,
    Since I cannot stay away !
   
    I collected my heart's blood crystals,
    Preserved them all night long,
    As remembrances and souvenirs
    With which I shall adorn your collar.
   
    I'll come out, not afraid
    Of hostile talk and taunts,
    And quite unabashed, tell every one
    Whose love has consumed me thus.
   
    Separation withered up the yemberzal,
    But love has brought her back I
    She will love you over again,
    Offering her eyes at your feet !
   
    Mahjoor pleads you come again,
    Stay a while and talk to him.
    He will play on royal harps
    And sing new songs for you !

   

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