Leaving Lucknow

So - fully recovered from my brush with death (not at all, to be honest, but sounds dramatic, doesn't it?), I returned to Lucknow and started working furiously on my final project, which seemed a lot easier when I first proposed it a few weeks before: translating English poetry into Urdu. I ended up choosing Robert Frost's "Nothing Gold Can Stay," Langston Hughes' "Dreams" and the piece de resistance, Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. I'm re-posting the sonnet below, and when I find my copies of the other two, I'll put those up as well.

Shakespeare ki ek nazm hai, arz karti hun...

روحانی تعلق کی سچائی میں مزاحمت نہیں ہوتی

جو تبدیلیوں سے بدل جائے وہ محبت نہیں ہوتی

سچی محبت کو زندگی کے نشیب و فراز کے آگے

گھٹنے ٹیکنے کی عادت نہیں ہوتی

نہیں! عشق نہیں پلٹتا اپنے دائمی نشان سے

اور نہیں ہوتا متزلزل شورش ِطوفان سے

یہ ہر بھٹکی ہوئی کشتی کا راہ نما

جس کا قد و قامت معلوم ہو قدر و قیمت نہیں

آ جاتے ہیں ٹیڑھے چکر میں گلابی لب و رخصار

محبت کا نہیں ہوتا وقت پر انحصار

گردش ِزمانہ محبت کو تبدیل نہیں کر پاتی

محبت تاقیامت نہ باقی ہوتی تو قیامت نہیں ہوتی

غلط ثابت ہو جائے یہ بات یا اس میں ہو کوئی غلطی

تو پھر نہ میں نے کچھ لکھا نہ کسی نے کبھی محبت کی

Ruhani ta'aliq ki sacchai men muzahimat nahin hoti
Jo tabdeelion se badal jaaye woh muhabbat nahin hoti
Sacchi muhabbat ko zindagi ke nasheb-o-firaz ke aage
Ghitne teekne ki aadat nahin hoti
Nahin! Ishq nahin pilatta apne daimi nishan se
Aur nahin hota mutazalzal shorish-e-tofan se
Yeh har bhatki hui kashti ka rah nama
Jis ka qad-o-qaamat ma'alum ho qadr-o-qimat nahin
Aa jaate hain teerhe chikar men gulabi lab-o-rukhsaar
Muhabbat ka nahin hota waqt par inhisaar
Gardish-e-zamana muhabbat ko tabdeel nahin kar pati
Muhabbat ta-qayamat na baqi hoti to qayamat nahin hoti
Ghalat saabit ho jaaye yeh baat ya is men ho koi ghalati
To phir na main ne kuch likha na kissi ne kabhi muhabbat ki

Literal translation:

In the truth of the soul-relationship there is not [or: would not have been] an impediment
What may change upon changes, that is not [or: would not have been] love
True love, in the face of the vicissitudes of life
Does not [or: would not have had] the habit of alteration
No! Love does not waver from its own fixed mark [sign]
And does not shake from the tumult of the storm
This is every wandering/lost vessel's signal [anyone have a better word for rah-nama?]
Whose height may be known [but] not their true worth
Rosy lips and cheeks come into the line of the wheel
Love does not turn away/deviate with time [Platts gives "apostatize" as one definition for "inhisaar," how interesting that would be...]
The turning of the age does not [or: would not have] found changes in love
If love were not remaining until judgement day then it is not [or: would not have been] judgement day
If this matter is proven to be wrong or if there may be error in it [in't!]
Then I never wrote anything nor did anyone ever love.

And the original:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.