Ghalib genre
Padmanabhan Srinagesh
>
> Dil-o-mizghaan ka jo muqaddama tha
> Aaj phir us ki roobakaari hai
>
> I have pondering over this shair and its interpretations put forth in this
> forum. The word "muqaddama" also means introduction or preface, for example,
> "Muqaddama Ibn-e-Khuldoon". Another meaning is something that has taken place,
> gone forward or sent forward. Roobakaari may mean "reappearance" or
> "recurrence". Considering these meanings, I thought about another
> interpretation of this shair as follows:
> Whatever had happened between her eyelashes and my heart is going to happen
> again today. Those eyelashes had pierced my heart then; the same would happen
> today as well.
> Saleem A Khanani
I like this interpretation a *lot*. When I read Ghalib I often hear the
echo of infinity. The description of a moment often implies that the
moment has occurred before, and will occure again. Or, as another poet
once said, it's deja vu all over again.
The ghazal "muddat hui hai ..." has the word phir in the first line of
every sher after the matla. I have interpreted this word to imply that
Ghalib is not talking about something that has happened for the first
time (obviously) but it is not the second time either. He is talking
about the nth time, and implicitly saying that there is a do loop, n + 1
= n.
Two shers from other ghazals that seem to hint at the infinite are:
Yeh na thi hamaari kismat ki visaal-e-yaar hota
Agar aur jeete rahte, yahi intezaar hota
The implication being , it doesn't matter how long one's (finite) life
is, the wait is infinite. In fact this is equivalent to a modern
definition of infinity: bigger than any finite number.
The second sher is:
Aa hi jaata voh raah par Ghalib
Koi din aur bhi jiye hote.
Raj Kumar Sahib had a very different interpretation of this last sher,
but our discussion was interrupted by broken email. Any comments
welcome.
Nagesh
Yogesh Sethi
khud mujhe majabuur kiyaa ke mai.n us ko apanaa fan qarraar duu.n."
With one masterful stroke, Ghalib delineated the desires of those
creative souls who seek an outlet--be it via poetry, painting or other
art forms. Van Gogh's paintings today fetch millions--but he never sold
a single painting during his lifetime. Why then did he paint? How did he
benefit from the stratospheric prices his paintings command today: on
the contrary, he died a pauper. Ghalib has the answer and the reasoning
in his poetic rendition. I will move the argument a step further. It
also applies to our artistic urges to interpret the poet, irrespective
of the levels at which one attempts it. Money and glory are not the only
forces that propel the creative instinct--rather it is the innate desire
to express oneself.
Having said that, let me present my interpretation of the Ghalib sher
that was posted by Jamil Sahib. I did my best to stay close to the
master's intent without taking excessive liberties (I hope Raj Sahib is
smiling). I'm sure there is room for improvement--there always is--but
we have to stop at some point.
"Dil-o-mizghaan ka jo muqaddama tha
Aaj phir us ki roobakaari hai"
My beloved's eyelashes have raked my heart,
Can any court concede retribution?
Comments, additions and corrections are welcome.
Regards,
Yogesh Sethi
SF786
Aaj phir us ki roobakaari hai
I have pondering over this shair and its interpretations put forth in this
il_...@yahoo.com
Yogesh Sethi <yse...@postoffice.worldnet.att.net> wrote:
> "mai.n ne shaayarii khud nahii.n ikhatiyaar kii, balake shaayarii ne
> khud mujhe majabuur kiyaa ke mai.n us ko apanaa fan qarraar duu.n."
>
> With one masterful stroke, Ghalib delineated the desires of those
> creative souls who seek an outlet--be it via poetry, painting or other
> art forms. Van Gogh's paintings today fetch millions--but he never sold
> a single painting during his lifetime. Why then did he paint? How did he
> benefit from the stratospheric prices his paintings command today: on
> the contrary, he died a pauper. Ghalib has the answer and the reasoning
> in his poetic rendition. I will move the argument a step further. It
> also applies to our artistic urges to interpret the poet, irrespective
> of the levels at which one attempts it. Money and glory are not the only
> forces that propel the creative instinct--rather it is the innate desire
> to express oneself.
My point exactly. Ghalib gave full play to his creative
urges. He wrote HIS OWN poetry. He did not translate
any pedecessor's (Persian) poetry. Even in the earlier
stage of his poetic evolution, when he wrote "rekhta",
it was only in the style of Bedil, but not a translation
or even interpretation of Bedil's poetry. I have always
held that such translations are good subjects for discussion
in this Newsgroup---but with one caveat. Basically, we are
discussing Urdu poetry, not posting English poetry for which
I believe other forums are available.
>
> Having said that, let me present my interpretation of the Ghalib sher
> that was posted by Jamil Sahib. I did my best to stay close to the
> master's intent without taking excessive liberties (I hope Raj Sahib is
> smiling). I'm sure there is room for improvement--there always is--but
> we have to stop at some point.
>
> "Dil-o-mizghaan ka jo muqaddama tha
> Aaj phir us ki roobakaari hai"
>
> My beloved's eyelashes have raked my heart,
> Can any court concede retribution?
I think Ghalib is actually thinking of this as an
ongoing, continuous, never-ending sort of confrontation.
And it is a playful, enjoyable confrontation at that.
The poet is not really desirous of this "muqadma" ever
coming to an end. Like he says elsewhere :
Chhed khoobaaN se chali jaaye Asad....
In the second misra, he merely says that "aaj is muqadme
ki phir peshi hai". In a way, he is also commenting
subtly on the delays inherent in the judicial system
where litigation goes on forever and ever. He is not
really calling for any court to render quick justice.
Secondly, the word "concede" in the context of a
court decision is not quite appropriate. Thirdly,
"retribution" would imply the court acting very aggress-
ively on behalf of the poet (as the plaintiff). Agar
adaalat gawah se bhi ziyaada chusti dikhaye to phir
insaaf kahaan raha ? Insaaf ki baat hai !
I hope my comments would not be taken amiss.
Khuloos-kesh
Afzal
>
> Comments, additions and corrections are welcome.
>
> Regards,
> Yogesh Sethi
>
>
-----== Posted via Deja News, The Leader in Internet Discussion ==-----
http://www.dejanews.com/rg_mkgrp.xp Create Your Own Free Member Forum
il_...@yahoo.com
If the word is to be pronounced as "muqaddama", then the
metre would be disturbed. Secondly, "muqaddama" would
normally be used with another noun like the example quoted
by Saleem Sahib, or like "Muqaddama-e-Sher-o-Shaa'iri".
If we read it as "Muqaddama-e-dil-o-mizhgaan", then it is
just a "preface". What about the main book/chapter ? Since
the entire ghazal uses the context of court proceedings,
I think the above interpretation is stretching things a
little too far.
Khuloos-kesh
Afzal
ahm...@noka.ub.bw
il_...@yahoo.com wrote:
...
> My point exactly. Ghalib gave full play to his creative
> urges. He wrote HIS OWN poetry. He did not translate
> any pedecessor's (Persian) poetry. Even in the earlier
> stage of his poetic evolution, when he wrote "rekhta",
> it was only in the style of Bedil, but not a translation
> or even interpretation of Bedil's poetry.
>
...
>
> Khuloos-kesh
> Afzal
Afzal Sahib: quite apart from this discussion about the merits and
advisability of translation, I was interested to read in your post about
Ghalib having followed Bedil in his early poetry. I heard somewhere, but
never could confirm it, that Ghalib's she'r:
Boo-e-gul, naala-e-dil, dood-e-chiraagh-e-mehfil
Jo teri bazm se nikla so pareshaan nikla
was a translation of a she'r by Bedil:
Boo-e-gul, naala-e-dil, dood-e-chiraagh-e-mehfil
Har keh az bazm-e-to barkhaast, pareshaan barkhaast
The second line in Ghalib's she'r is almost a literal translation of the line
in the Persian couplet, or vice-versa. Any comments on that?
Jamil Ahmad
il_...@yahoo.com
Jamil Sahib
I would be most unwilling to call it a case of translation.
It seems to be a case of wholesale adoption or appropriation !
One charitable explanation could be that it is a case of
"tawaarud". But even a hardened Ghalib-lover like me would
not accept this theory. Another explanation could be your
use of the words "vice versa", i.e. somebody 'translating'
Ghalib's verse into Persian and attributing it to Bedil.
Ghalib had a host of detractors in his time and one of them
could have been responsible for this, as a means of critici-
sing him. This is based on the premise that Bedil never
actually wrote this Persian verse. Unfortunately, I have
never had access to Bedil's Diwan. It may be available in
exclusive libraries but a recent print seems unlikely. Maybe
I didn't feel interested and didn't really look for it. This
is really a question for scholars to answer.
But there is no harm in discussing some of the other attendant
circumstances :
(a) Ghalib's intense love for Persian poetry
(b) Ghalib's deep knowledge of Persian poetry and its masters
(c) Ghalib's yearning to be remembered as one of the all-time
greats amongst Persian poets
(d) His poetic output in Persian is nearly 6/7 times as much
as his Urdu poetry
(e) His frequent references to Bedil as his early mentor
(f) The relatively short period of 120 years or so between
the two poets. The point is that Bedil's kalaam must
have been known rather widely amongst the Persian/Urdu
cognoscenti of Ghalib's period.
Taking all these factors into consideration, it does seem
rather unlikely that Ghalib would appropriate Bedil's sher
in such a blatant and brazen manner. Your source for this
story must be impeccable but I do not recall Bedil's version
in any anecdote in my imperfect forays into Ghalibyaat.
Admittedly, even these 'forays' took place a long time back.
But, as far as Ghalib's sher is concerned, I do have a hazy
memory of another Bedil sher which had been quoted in some
book/article I had read years ago, as being similar in content
and meaning to Ghalib's sher. The second misra was
something like "Jahaane sooe berangi ze-hasrat karvaan daarad".
I do not remember the first misra properly but, I think, it
ended in "bulbul fughaan daarad". Of course, a great many
verses from Ghalib's early period can be cited to show how
he was inspired by Bedil. But such a blatant copy somehow
seems out of character. It would have aroused a tumult of
accusations which would have been recorded in contemporary
writings but I do not recall any such criticism or objection
in the writings of that period.
Incidentally, I also recall that a controversy had been
raised about 70/80 years back about Ghalib plagiarising
another Persian poet (Ibn-e-Yameen, I think). But here too,
most scholars of the time were agreed that the accusation
had no basis in fact. As I said earlier, this is a
question that can be definitively answered by a scholar
having ready access to a good library.
On this topic of inspiration, it is interesting to note
how many notable poets of succeeding generations have been
inspired by Ghalib, amongst whom one can cite Saaqib Lucknavi,
Aziz Lucknavi, Asghar Gondwi, Faani Badayuni and Firaaq
Gorakhpuri. I particularly like the following shers :
Uthaaye jaake kahaan lutf-e-justjoo koi
Jagah woh kaun si hai tu jahaan nahin hota
Aziz
Na ibtida ki khabar hai na inteha ma'loom
Raha yeh wahm ke hum hain so woh bhi kya ma'loom
Faani
Sunta hoon baRe ghaur se afsaana-e-hasti
Kuchh khwaab hai kuchh asl hai kuchh tarz-e-ada hai
Asghar
Ghalib's influence is very apparent.
Reverting back to the theme of translation, I am still
of the view that Ghalib did not consciously try to 'translate'
Bedil. In contemporary writings, we do not find any mention
of people being desirous of reading Bedil (or other Persian
poets) in a translated form. Those who knew Persian well
read and enjoyed these poets in original Persian. Those (and
a considerable majority even in those days) who were not
familiar with the Persian language preferred Urdu "roz-marrah"
and resented Ghalib's use of highly Persianised Urdu in his
early evolutionary phase. This gives me another thought.
Why cannot Persian poetry be translated (and I don't mean
re-composed in verse) in simple English for the benefit of those
in this Newsgroup who (like Yours Truly) are not very familiar
with Persian ?
Khuloos-kesh
Afzal
(
ahm...@noka.ub.bw
il_...@yahoo.com wrote:
> In article <6qm92j$vup$1...@nnrp1.dejanews.com>,
> ahm...@noka.ub.bw wrote:
>> I heard somewhere, but
>> never could confirm it, that Ghalib's she'r:
>>
>> Boo-e-gul, naala-e-dil, dood-e-chiraagh-e-mehfil
>> Jo teri bazm se nikla so pareshaan nikla
>>
>> was a translation of a she'r by Bedil:
>>
>> Boo-e-gul, naala-e-dil, dood-e-chiraagh-e-mehfil
>> Har keh az bazm-e-to barkhaast, pareshaan barkhaast
>>
>> The second line in Ghalib's she'r is almost a literal translation of the line
>> in the Persian couplet, or vice-versa. Any comments on that?
>> Jamil Ahmad
...
> I would be most unwilling to call it a case of translation.
> It seems to be a case of wholesale adoption or appropriation !
> One charitable explanation could be that it is a case of
> "tawaarud". But even a hardened Ghalib-lover like me would
> not accept this theory. Another explanation could be your
> use of the words "vice versa", i.e. somebody 'translating'
> Ghalib's verse into Persian and attributing it to Bedil.
....
> Taking all these factors into consideration, it does seem
> rather unlikely that Ghalib would appropriate Bedil's sher
> in such a blatant and brazen manner. Your source for this
> story must be impeccable but I do not recall Bedil's version
> in any anecdote in my imperfect forays into Ghalibyaat.
...
My source was far from authentic. I only HEARD the story long ago, and I
don't even remember precisely, from whom. But if someone did translate
Ghalib's line, as a hoax or otherwise, it was done very effectively, at least
for me. Otherwise the line would not have stuck in my mind for so long.
...
> This gives me another thought.
> Why cannot Persian poetry be translated (and I don't mean
> re-composed in verse) in simple English for the benefit of those
> in this Newsgroup who (like Yours Truly) are not very familiar
> with Persian ?
>
> Khuloos-kesh
>
> Afzal
Excellent idea. I hope that those of us who have knowledge of Persian and
have access to books in the language, will do this.
I don't claim to know Persian well either, and my collection of books is
meager, but I will try to start off this endeavour with poetry of Hafiz, Rumi
and a couple of others. I hope others would follow with their own
contributions. Of course if there is a general feeling among members that
this is not the relevant forum for posting translation of Persian poetry,
please make your views known.
Jamil Ahmad
Raj Kumar Pathria
>
> In article <6qnfc1$a0p$1...@nnrp1.dejanews.com>,
> il_...@yahoo.com wrote:
>
> > ahm...@noka.ub.bw wrote:
>
> >> I heard somewhere, but
> >> never could confirm it, that Ghalib's she'r:
> >>
> >> Boo-e-gul, naala-e-dil, dood-e-chiraagh-e-mehfil
> >> Jo teri bazm se nikla so pareshaan nikla
> >>
> >> was a translation of a she'r by Bedil:
> >>
> >> Boo-e-gul, naala-e-dil, dood-e-chiraagh-e-mehfil
> >> Har keh az bazm-e-to barkhaast, pareshaan barkhaast
Janab Afzal Sahib, Jamil Sahib wa deegar hazraat:
do din qabl mujhe Professor Gopi Chand Narang Sahib (jo Hindustan ke
aek mash-hoor Urdu-daan, muhaqqiq aur muqarrir hone ke saath saath aek
maane hue maahir-e-Ghalibyaat aur maahir-e-Iqbaliyaat bhi hain) se milne
ka ittefaq hua. woh Toronto mein Mirza Ghalib ki 200-ween saal-greh ke
mauqe par aek maqaala pesh karne aaye the.
main ne yeh Ghalib-Bedil waala sawaal un ke saamne rakhkha. unhon ne
poore yaqeen se kahaa ke Ghalib ke haan tarjume ka sawaal hi paida nahin
hota. agarche yeh she'r Bedil ke rang ka hai, magar khud kalaam-e-Bedil
mein kahin par bhi nahin hai. hanste hue kehne lage 'ghaaliban kisi
manchle ne shosha chherha hai (main ne baraah-e-lihaaz Jamil Sahib ka
naam nahin liya!)'.
Narang Sahib ne yeh bhi kahaa ke bahar-haal shaair aek doosre so kuchh
asaraat to lete hi hain. maslan Ghalib ne sirf Bedil hi nahin Nazeeri
aur Urfi se bhi kuchh asaraat qabool kiye hain. aur agar aap Faiz ke
kalaam ko ghaur se dekhen to jaa-bajaa
Rumi ke asaraat nazar aate hain. magar yeh baat ke kahin Ghalib ne jaan
boojh kar tarjuma ya sarqa kiya hai qat'an ghalat hai.
> ...
> > This gives me another thought.
> > Why cannot Persian poetry be translated (and I don't mean
> > re-composed in verse) in simple English for the benefit of those
> > in this Newsgroup who (like Yours Truly) are not very familiar
> > with Persian ?
> >
> > Khuloos-kesh
> >
> > Afzal
>
> Excellent idea. I hope that those of us who have knowledge of Persian and
> have access to books in the language, will do this.
>
> I don't claim to know Persian well either, and my collection of books is
> meager, but I will try to start off this endeavour with poetry of Hafiz, Rumi
> and a couple of others. I hope others would follow with their own
> contributions. Of course if there is a general feeling among members that
> this is not the relevant forum for posting translation of Persian poetry,
> please make your views known.
phir main ne Narang Sahib se 'translation in general' ke baare mein
poochha to kehne lage ke Sahib yeh kaam bahut terha hai. faarsi se urdu
ka jaanib chalen to koi mazaaiqa nahin, magar door-daraaz ki zabaanon me
tarjuma karna aur original ke saath poora insaaf karna joo-e-sheer laane
waali baat hai. main ne baat aage barhaane ki koshish ki to farmaaya ke
Sahib aap Robert Frost ka yeh qaul zehn mein rakhkhen:
"poetry is what is lost in translation".
aakhir mein meri apni zaati raae yeh hai ke agar hum yahaan is forum
mein faarsi-urdu tarjume nashr karne lagen to bahut se logon ko shaaid
woh mazaa na aaye jo sirf urdu shaairi se chohl-mohl karne mein aata
hai. aap agar chaahen to yeh tajruba kar ke dekh lein magar main is
mu'aamle mein bahut zayaada ummeed-waar nahin hoon.
Khair-andesh, Raj Kumar
ahm...@noka.ub.bw
rpat...@sciborg.uwaterloo.ca wrote:
...
> > > In article <6qm92j$vup$1...@nnrp1.dejanews.com>,
> > > ahm...@noka.ub.bw wrote:
> >
> > >> I heard somewhere, but
> > >> never could confirm it, that Ghalib's she'r:
> > >>
> > >> Boo-e-gul, naala-e-dil, dood-e-chiraagh-e-mehfil
> > >> Jo teri bazm se nikla so pareshaan nikla
> > >>
> > >> was a translation of a she'r by Bedil:
> > >>
> > >> Boo-e-gul, naala-e-dil, dood-e-chiraagh-e-mehfil
> > >> Har keh az bazm-e-to barkhaast, pareshaan barkhaast
>
> Janab Afzal Sahib, Jamil Sahib wa deegar hazraat:
>
> do din qabl mujhe Professor Gopi Chand Narang Sahib (jo Hindustan ke
> aek mash-hoor Urdu-daan, muhaqqiq aur muqarrir hone ke saath saath aek
> maane hue maahir-e-Ghalibyaat aur maahir-e-Iqbaliyaat bhi hain) se milne
> ka ittefaq hua. woh Toronto mein Mirza Ghalib ki 200-ween saal-greh ke
> mauqe par aek maqaala pesh karne aaye the.
>
> main ne yeh Ghalib-Bedil waala sawaal un ke saamne rakhkha. unhon ne
> poore yaqeen se kahaa ke Ghalib ke haan tarjume ka sawaal hi paida nahin
> hota. agarche yeh she'r Bedil ke rang ka hai, magar khud kalaam-e-Bedil
> mein kahin par bhi nahin hai. hanste hue kehne lage 'ghaaliban kisi
> manchle ne shosha chherha hai (main ne baraah-e-lihaaz Jamil Sahib ka
> naam nahin liya!)'.
...
Thank you Raj Sahib, keh aap ne Narang Sahib ke saamne khaaksaar ko be-aabroo
naheen kiya.
Once I sent this query to Maalik Ram through a friend, but did not get a
definite reply. All I found was that Bedil has really written a ghazal in
this zameen. I also wrote to the other leading Ghalib-shanaas of the time:
Abul Lais Siddiqi, but did not get any reply. Now this "manchala" is glad
that Janab Narang has laid this "shosha" to rest.
Jamil Ahmad
Yogesh Sethi
> ...
> But there is no harm in discussing...
>
> (a) Ghalib's intense love for Persian poetry
> (b) Ghalib's deep knowledge of Persian poetry and its masters
> (c) Ghalib's yearning to be remembered as one of the all-time
> greats amongst Persian poets
> (d) His poetic output in Persian is nearly 6/7 times as much
> as his Urdu poetry
>
>
> Khuloos-kesh
>
> Afzal
>
In this context I'd like to ask a question. The stature of Ghalib, as a
poet, is well established in Urdu. But how well is he regarded by the
connoiseurs of persian poetry?
Regards,
Yogesh Sethi
Yogesh Sethi
>
> ahm...@noka.ub.bw wrote:
> >...
> > Excellent idea. I hope that those of us who have knowledge of Persian and
> > have access to books in the language, will do this.
> >
>
> poochha to kehne lage ke Sahib yeh kaam bahut terha hai. faarsi se urdu
>
> aakhir mein meri apni zaati raae yeh hai ke agar hum yahaan is forum
> mein faarsi-urdu tarjume nashr karne lagen to bahut se logon ko shaaid
> woh mazaa na aaye jo sirf urdu shaairi se chohl-mohl karne mein aata
> hai. aap agar chaahen to yeh tajruba kar ke dekh lein magar main is
> mu'aamle mein bahut zayaada ummeed-waar nahin hoon.
>
> Khair-andesh, Raj Kumar
>
>
maruuz ke naubat javaani man ast
mai noshitam az aa.nka kaamaranii man ast
aibash makai.nd agarche talkh sat khush sat
talkh sat aaz aa.nka zindagaanii man sat
Urdu:
hai jaam se vaabastaa javaanii merii
ye mai hai kaliid-e-kamaraanii merii
tum talkh bataate ho to kuch aib nahii.n
talkhii.n to hai ain zi.ndagaanii merii
~Omar Khayyam, Urdu trans: Waqif Moradabadi
Please forgive and correct any errors in transliteration. My knowledge
of persian is limited.
Regards,
Yogesh Sethi
Padmanabhan Srinagesh
> SNIP
> Pursad chira keh nirkh-e-mai-e-la'al faam cheest
>
> [Ghalib wuh agar apna khirqa (gown of religous man) aur mus'haf (holy book)
> mujh par naheen bechta to yeh kiyon poochhta hai keh mai-e-la'l faam (wine)
> ka kiya nirkh hai]
>
> -----------------------------------------
> Jamil Ahmad
>
> ---
This is truly an eye-opener for me. I hope you wlll be able to provide
more material of this kind, perhaps some of Amir Khusro? I have heard
Iqbal Bano sing some Perisan kalaam in her casettes and have found the
compositions tanatalizing. A word here and there understandable, and
the rest like a difficult London Times crossword, blank and waiting to
be filled in. Any referencs to songs/musicians who may have sung Ghalib
in the Persian?
On the quality of Persian poetry coming from the sub-continent, here is
Professor Arberry. of the University of London, in the preface to his
translation of a part of Iqbal's Payam-e-Mashriq, which was written in
Persian. The "Message from the East" was a response to Goethe's
"West-oestlicher Divan". Now that is a strange admixture, owing its
existence no doubt to Iqbal's years as a doctoral student in Germany.
"Iqbal was very modest about his Persian poetry. :"I am of India", he
writes,"Persian is not my native tongue. I am like the crescent moon;
my cup is not full .... O reader, do not find fault with the wine-cup,
but consider attentively the taste of hte wine." In fact the Tulip of
the SInai contains some poetry of a very high order, and is certainly in
the first rank of modern Persian literature". May I add that while the
translatio is superb, I would appreciate Arberry all the more if I had
the original with me.
Note the differenc between Iqbal's attittude and Ghalib's: when Ghalib
was put on the defensive on matters relating to his Urdu output, hwe
would invariably claim that it was his Persian poetry by which he should
be judged.
Nagesh
By the by, as long as we are talking about translation: What do you call
a sardar with one hair? Iqbal Singh! You see, it is possible to make
fun of translators!
Raj Kumar Pathria
> What do you think of the following attempt by Prof. Waqif?
>
> Persian:
> maruuz ke naubat javaani man ast
> mai noshitam az aa.nka kaamaranii man ast
> aibash makai.nd agarche talkh sat khush sat
> talkh sat aaz aa.nka zindagaanii man sat
> Urdu:
>
> hai jaam se vaabastaa javaanii merii
> ye mai hai kaliid-e-kamaraanii merii
> tum talkh bataate ho to kuch aib nahii.n
> talkhii.n to hai ain zi.ndagaanii merii
>
> ~Omar Khayyam, Urdu trans: Waqif Moradabadi
>
> Please forgive and correct any errors in transliteration. My
knowledge
> of persian is limited.
>
> Regards,
> Yogesh Sethi
Janab Yogesh Sahib:
My own knowledge of Persian is limited too. Though I do have some idea
of the Persian grammar and syntax, and luckily have a fairly good
vocabulary of Persian words, I do not have a good working command of
this very rich language. Nevertheless, I can readily see that the
transliteration provided by you needs several corrections. But I won't
dwell on those, for I have a lot to say on Prof. Waaqif's work.
First of all, a personal note. Since Waqif Sahib was a professor at the
P.U. Camp College at Delhi, he was, for a short time, a colleague of my
brother, so I came to know him reasonably well. He had an absolute
command on the Urdu language, composed long nazms of topical interest
and recited them in a thoroghly masterful manner at local mushairas. He
wasn't a poet of very high standing, so I rarely saw him at those
high-powered mushairas I talked about earlier. But I liked him a lot for
his mannerism in general and for his manner of speech in particular.
He attained instant India-wide fame when he produced his first slim
volume of Khayyam's rubaaiyaat in Jan. 1960. Within a few months, they
disposed off 3 or 4 reprints of it. His second volume, again very slim,
came out in Oct. 1960 and met the same level of success. The main
reasons for his success were the following:
(i) the choice of the format (he gave on the same page the original
Persian, his own translation into Urdu, FitzGerald's translation into
English, if available, and his own version in the Devnagari script).
When people compared his version with that of FitzGerald (who had
brought Khayyam into lime-light all over Europe), they invariably gave
him high marks. This made him a sort of a hero.
(ii) his translations were generally good in their own right --- so much
so that, on occasion, people felt that he had outdone Khayyam. This last
point got emphasized again and again when people read the 'taqreez' that
Divan Anand Kumar, the then Vice-Chancellor of P.U. and himself a
devotee of the Urdu language, wrote on Prof. Waqif's work. By the way,
for those who don't know this word, taqreez means an appreciative
review; it also means a review that was 'supposed' to be appreciative (I
don't know which meaning applies here). In any case, Divan Anand Kumar
wrote:
"(in this work) Khayyam ki rooh har jagah goyaa nazar aati hai, balke
aksar maqaamaat par shiguftagi aur be-saakhtgi Khayyam ko aaeena
dikhaati nazar aati hai".
There is bound to be some exaggeration here but my own feelig is that
Prof. Waqif did do a truly good job. Why and how he could do it is a
matter worth discussing, and I propose to discuss that on the basis of
the very example that has been quoted by Yogesh Sahib. However, in view
of the time involved, I'll do so in my next post.
Khair-andesh, Raj Kumar
Raj Kumar Pathria
> >
> > > What do you think of the following attempt by Prof. Waqif?
> > >
> > > Persian:
> > > maruuz ke naubat javaani man ast
> > > mai noshitam az aa.nka kaamaranii man ast
> > > aibash makai.nd agarche talkh sat khush sat
> > > talkh sat aaz aa.nka zindagaanii man sat
> >
> > > Urdu:
> > >
> > > hai jaam se vaabastaa javaanii merii
> > > ye mai hai kaliid-e-kamaraanii merii
> > > tum talkh bataate ho to kuch aib nahii.n
> > > talkhii.n to hai ain zi.ndagaanii merii
> > >
> > > ~Omar Khayyam, Urdu trans: Waqif Moradabadi
> > >
> > > Please forgive and correct any errors in transliteration. My
> > knowledge
> > > of persian is limited.
> > >
> > > Regards,
> > > Yogesh Sethi
I shall now proceed with a discussion of Waqif's translation quoted by
Yogesh Sahib. Why he could do such a good job is based on several
factors:
1. He had a very good command of both Persian and Urdu, and at the same
time had a pretty good sense of poetics.
2. More importantly, he had the considerable advantage that the two
languages, and the corresponding poetic cultures, he was dealing with
had so much in common. These advantages, which FitzGerald might regard
as 'undue', are simply matters of fact and nobody can take them away.
Please watch the role of the closeness of the two languages.
(i) Waqif could retain six Persian words from the original (javaani,
mai, kaamraani, talkh, aib & zindagaani), which include ALL the qaafias
of the rubaa'ii,
(ii) he even introduced three new Persian words (jaam, vaabasta &
kaleed), which weren't there in the original,
(iii) he even introduced a new Persian murakkab (kaleed-e-kaamraani),
which wasn't there in the original,
and yet his rubaa'ii is as genuinely Urdu as any! A translator from
Persian into English has no such advantage; even translators into other
Indian languages aren't that lucky.
3. By introducing the phrase 'kaleed-e-kamraani,, which means the key to
fulfilment, and the phrase 'jaam se vaabasta', which means attached to
jaam, Waqif has produced a rubaa'ii whose first two lines not only
capture the spirit of Khayyam but, in my opinion, are even better than
the original, especailly in regard to their 'flow'. The third and fourth
lines are O.K.
4. This matter of 'flow' is not a minor matter; it makes so much
difference to the effectiveness of the piece. Now, I don't know why
Yogesh Sahib chose this particular rubaa'ii for my surgery, but this is
one of those rubaa'iiyat of Khayyam where the flow is rather restricted.
This is because the vowel sound of 'ast' is supposed to be blended with
the previous word 'man' and, further, there is supposed to be an izaafat
between the qaafia and the word 'man' in lines 1,2 & 4. For instance,
the first line is supposed to be read as 'imrooz ke
naubat-e-javaani-e-man(a)st'. Most people won't read it right, and for
them the line will not flow well. The second line of Khayyam is even
worse in this regard.
5. There is no such problem (of flow) in Waqif's piece, except that
there is a minor 'laghzish' in the fouth line. However, such minor
lapses are commonplace in rubaa'iis and are considered admissible. Not
so in a ghazal.
6. All in all, Waqif has done an excellent job in this case, for which
he deserves applause. But he was lucky that he was translating between
two languages that are very close cousins.
7. One correction, Yogesh Sahib. The first word of the fourth line in
Waqif's piece is not 'talkhee.n'; in fact, no such word exists. It
should be 'talkhi'. You presumably used the Devnagari version, where the
typographer put an extra 'bindi'; this is an error --- in fact, one of
the NUMEROUS errors one finds in the Devnagari version. Those who know
both the scripts can readily spot them. So much so that Waqif had to
acknowledge this unfortunate fact in the preface to his second volume.
8. Well, Yogesh Sahib, whether you agree with my analysis or not, you
will certainly agree that I did take some pains in order to respond to
your (innocent) request for a comment on this piece. Now YOU owe me a
favour. Please try to render this rubaa'ii into English (which
FitzGerald doesn't seem to have done) and send your version to me either
through this forum or directly. I promise you I won't say a word! :)
Khair-andesh, Raj Kumar
Yogesh Sethi
I agree with you on the matter of ‘flow’. That’s what attracted me to
this quatrain in the first place. But I’m having a hard time reconciling
the last two lines of the quatrain with the first two. The first two
lines, as you said, are very good -- then the quatrain fizzles out. I
wonder why?
I cannot make an independent judgment of the Persian version, so I ask :
is the original so deficient that a translator gets overpowered by the
quatrain? Cohesiveness is critical to a quatrain : without that, no
amount of eloquence will produce a masterly piece.
Permit me to cite an example, on a similar theme, from ‘madhushaalaa’ by
Dr.Harivansh Rai Bachchan.. It illustrates a cohesive brilliance.
laalaayat adharo.n se jisne, haaye, nahii.n chuumii haalaa,
harsh-vika.npit kar se jisne, haa, na chhuaa madhu kaa pyaalaa
haath paka.D lajjit saaqii kaa paas nahii.n jisne khii.nchaa
vyarth sukhaa daalii jiivan kii usne madhumay madhushaalaa
This is an original work in Hindi, not a translation. Bachchan admired
Omar Khayyam.
I am not convinced that language poses a problem to masterly
interpretation. It’s neither an advantage nor a disadvantage to
interpret into a related or unrelated language. The only requirement is
a complete understanding of the two languages: the rest is innate
ability. I view translations and interpretations as a three-step
process:
1. Produce an accurate literal translation.
2. Produce an accurate conceptual translation, leaving literal
meanings aside.
3. Mold the ideas into the new language which can stand on its own as
poetry and still match the eloquence of the original master.
I would be delighted to assist in the third part, if someone will help
with the first two elements from the original Persian. I’ll be
travelling for few days, so please forgive me if I’m a bit late on my
next post.
Regards,
Yogesh Sethi
ps: For the benefit of those who may not be too familiar with Hindi but
still wish to understand the madhushaalaa quatrain, listed below are the
meanings of some of the Hindi words:
laalaayat adharo.n = pyaase ho.nTo.n
haalaa = wine
harsh-vika.npit kar = hands trembling with joy
madhu = nector
lajjit = shy
vyarth = waste
jiivan = life
madhushaalaa = maiKhaanaa
Raj Kumar Pathria wrote:
>
> > > Yogesh Sethi wrote:
> > >
> > > > What do you think of the following attempt by Prof. Waqif?
> > > >
> > > > Persian:
> > > > maruuz ke naubat javaani man ast
> > > > mai noshitam az aa.nka kaamaranii man ast
> > > > aibash makai.nd agarche talkh sat khush sat
> > > > talkh sat aaz aa.nka zindagaanii man sat
> > >
> > > > Urdu:
> > > >
> > > > hai jaam se vaabastaa javaanii merii
> > > > ye mai hai kaliid-e-kamaraanii merii
> > > > tum talkh bataate ho to kuch aib nahii.n
> > > > talkhii.n to hai ain zi.ndagaanii merii
> > > >
> > > > ~Omar Khayyam, Urdu trans: Waqif Moradabadi
> > > >...
ahm...@noka.ub.bw
Yogesh Sethi <yse...@postoffice.worldnet.att.net> wrote:
> Raj Sahib:
>
> I agree with you on the matter of ‘flow’. That’s what attracted me to
> this quatrain in the first place. But I’m having a hard time reconciling
> the last two lines of the quatrain with the first two. The first two
> lines, as you said, are very good -- then the quatrain fizzles out. I
> wonder why?
>
> I cannot make an independent judgment of the Persian version, so I ask :
> is the original so deficient that a translator gets overpowered by the
> quatrain? Cohesiveness is critical to a quatrain : without that, no
> amount of eloquence will produce a masterly piece.
>
...
> Raj Kumar Pathria wrote:
> >
> > > > Yogesh Sethi wrote:
> > > >
> > > > > What do you think of the following attempt by Prof. Waqif?
> > > > >
> > > > > Persian:
> > > > > maruuz ke naubat javaani man ast
> > > > > mai noshitam az aa.nka kaamaranii man ast
> > > > > aibash makai.nd agarche talkh sat khush sat
> > > > > talkh sat aaz aa.nka zindagaanii man sat
> > > >
> > > > > Urdu:
> > > > >
> > > > > hai jaam se vaabastaa javaanii merii
> > > > > ye mai hai kaliid-e-kamaraanii merii
> > > > > tum talkh bataate ho to kuch aib nahii.n
> > > > > talkhii.n to hai ain zi.ndagaanii merii
> > > > >
> > > > > ~Omar Khayyam, Urdu trans: Waqif Moradabadi
> > > > >...
...
> > Khair-andesh, Raj Kumar
>
I largely agree with the analysis of Raj Sahib, but the problem of flow as
mentioned by both Raj Sahib and Yogesh Sahib is ameliorated if you read the
Farsi ruba'ii correctly. The correct version is:
Imrooz keh naubat-e-javaani-e-man-ast
Mai noosham az aankeh kaamraani-e-man-ast
'Aibam ma-kuneed garcheh talkh-ast khush-ast
Talkh ast az-aankeh zindagaani-e-man-ast
Also the problem of "fizzling" out largely disappears if you consider the
meaning of the original, rather than Waqif's rendition, which though not as
free a translation as FitzGerald's is still not quite faithful to the
original. I take the original to mean: Today (now) is the time of my youth.
I drink wine because it is time for my fruition. Don't criticise me; even if
it (the wine) is bitter, it is still good, for my life is even more bitter.
Jamil Ahmad
il_...@yahoo.com
ahm...@noka.ub.bw wrote:
> In article <35DA4A...@postoffice.worldnet.att.net>,
> Yogesh Sethi <yse...@postoffice.worldnet.att.net> wrote:
> > > > > > Persian:
> > > > > > maruuz ke naubat javaani man ast
> > > > > > mai noshitam az aa.nka kaamaranii man ast
> > > > > > aibash makai.nd agarche talkh sat khush sat
> > > > > > talkh sat aaz aa.nka zindagaanii man sat
> > > > >
> > > > > > Urdu:
> > > > > >
> > > > > > hai jaam se vaabastaa javaanii merii
> > > > > > ye mai hai kaliid-e-kamaraanii merii
> > > > > > tum talkh bataate ho to kuch aib nahii.n
> > > > > > talkhii.n to hai ain zi.ndagaanii merii
> > > > > >
> > > > > > ~Omar Khayyam, Urdu trans: Waqif Moradabadi
> Imrooz keh naubat-e-javaani-e-man-ast
> Mai noosham az aankeh kaamraani-e-man-ast
> 'Aibam ma-kuneed garcheh talkh-ast khush-ast
> Talkh ast az-aankeh zindagaani-e-man-ast
>
> Also the problem of "fizzling" out largely disappears if you consider the
> meaning of the original, rather than Waqif's rendition, which though not as
> free a translation as FitzGerald's is still not quite faithful to the
> original. I take the original to mean: Today (now) is the time of my youth.
> I drink wine because it is time for my fruition. Don't criticise me; even if
> it (the wine) is bitter, it is still good, for my life is even more bitter.
>
> Jamil Ahmad
Jamil Sahib must be complimented not only for giving us a
corrected version of the Farsi quatrain but also for clearing
up the issue of "flow" and "fizzling out".
In this context, I feel Sethi Sahib did have a point in
expressing his reservations about the quatrain "fizzling out"
in the last two lines. Actually, one likes to think of these
lines (and particularly the last line) as the "punch-line" in
driving home the poet's message. A quatrain is complete in
itself, yet it consists of only four lines. There is little
merit in composing a quatrain if the concluding lines do not
quite "deliver" the message.
In the instant case, the difficulty (in my view) is
created by Waqif's translation. As rightly pointed out by
Jamil Sahib, he has not adhered to Khayyam's original quatrain.
And this "non-adherence" extends to the meaning and content of
the rubaa'i---what I have referred to as the poet's message.
"Tum talkh batate ho to kuchh aib nahiN" can mean two things:
(1) If you call this wine bitter, then it is the truth. There
is nothing wrong about what you say. It is in fact bitter.
(2) I do not find fault with you, even if you call this wine
bitter. I do not hold it against you.
This ambiguity clouds the real meaning of the rubaa'i and sort
of "weakens" the "punch-line".
The second difficulty lies in Waqif's use of the expression
"kaleed-e-kaamraani". "Kaamraani" is something more than mere
wish-fulfilment. It is "success, achievement". Waqif calls the
wine and its drinking as "the key to success/achievement", giving
a more positive and optimistic twist to the poet's meaning.
Actually, in my view, Khayyam is trying to bring home to the
reader the sense of utter failure and hopelessness which surrounds
his life or existence. If one were to "paraphrase" the rubaa'i,
the meaning would be something like this :
"This is my youth. I have a full life-time ahead of me.
And, yet, my sense of failure and hopelessness can be gauged
by this bitter wine that I am drinking. Please do not criti-
cise me. Do not condemn me. Do not try to counsel me. Do
not make me desist, by saying that the wine is bitter. I know
it only too well. It will do, even if it is bitter. At least,
it is not as bitter as my life. And this bitter wine represents
all that I have been able to achieve in this life."
Viewed in this light, there is a natural flow of ideas even in
the last two lines. The poet gently---ever so gently---closes the
argument: "Even if the wine is bitter, let me drink it. After all,
it is not as bitter as my life."
In Khayyam's rubaa'i, the poet is attributing all blame
to himself by using the word "aibam". He is not finding fault
with his critics. Khayyam uses the word "kaamraani" in an
absolutely negative sense. "Kaleed-e-kaamraani", on the other
hand, does not quite convey the same sense of utter hopelessness.
Since I am fond of old film music, let me say that the
spirit of this quatrain reminded me of an old song :
"Mujhe tum se kuchh bhi na chaahiye
Mujhe mere haal pe chhod do".
The film lyrics are not a patch on Khayyam's quatrain or Waqif's
translation, but the underlying spirit and feeling is the same:
the poet desperately wants to be left alone.
This also reminds me of a sher by Ghalib :
"Munhasir marne pe ho jis ki umeed
Na-umeedi us ki dekha chaahiye".
Afzal
Nevil Shah
In response to this below excerpt from your post, I must say that some
languages are just not as expressive in their words as others. The
language of Urdu, as it relies on the vast language of Arabic, is an
example of a superior language in terms of expressiveness. Certainly I
would say it is superior to English, I can think of many a word in Urdu
which cannot be translated to its fullest impact in English. There are
actually some words for the vice versa case as well, but I bet they are
not many at all.
Interpretation can only be so great, it seems. Nothing can beat the
original, or nothing can give you the same effect as the original, no
matter what 2 languages. Ask a person who knows Persian AND Urdu, my
guess is they will say Khayyam's translation is just not the same as the
original Persian.
> I am not convinced that language poses a problem to masterly
> interpretation. It’s neither an advantage nor a disadvantage to
> interpret into a related or unrelated language. The only requirement is
> a complete understanding of the two languages: the rest is innate
> ability. I view translations and interpretations as a three-step
> process:
>
> 1. Produce an accurate literal translation.
> 2. Produce an accurate conceptual translation, leaving literal
> meanings aside.
> 3. Mold the ideas into the new language which can stand on its own as
> poetry and still match the eloquence of the original master.
bye,
Nevil
il_...@yahoo.com
nr...@pacbell.net wrote:
Note the differenc between Iqbal's attittude and Ghalib's: when Ghalib
> was put on the defensive on matters relating to his Urdu output, hwe
> would invariably claim that it was his Persian poetry by which he should
> be judged.
>
> Nagesh
May I add just one comment ? Ghalib genuinely thought very highly
of his Persian poetry and really believed that this, rather than
his Urdu output, would ensure him a pre-eminent position in the
future. His claims in this respect were not a defensive ploy
when he was criticised on matters relating to his Urdu poetry.
It is of course ironical that his Persian poetry is all but
forgotten in his own country, while in Iran he has been relegated
to almost a similar position. In the latter case, the concensus
of opinion amongst Indian critics is that the Iranian attitude is
based on ethnic considerations.
Afzal
ahm...@noka.ub.bw
il_...@yahoo.com wrote:
> In article <35D5AC...@pacbell.net>,
> nr...@pacbell.net wrote:
> Note the differenc between Iqbal's attittude and Ghalib's: when Ghalib
> > was put on the defensive on matters relating to his Urdu output, hwe
> > would invariably claim that it was his Persian poetry by which he should
> > be judged.
> >
> > Nagesh
>
> May I add just one comment ? Ghalib genuinely thought very highly
> of his Persian poetry and really believed that this, rather than
> his Urdu output, would ensure him a pre-eminent position in the
> future. His claims in this respect were not a defensive ploy
> when he was criticised on matters relating to his Urdu poetry.
> It is of course ironical that his Persian poetry is all but
> forgotten in his own country, while in Iran he has been relegated
> to almost a similar position. In the latter case, the concensus
> of opinion amongst Indian critics is that the Iranian attitude is
> based on ethnic considerations.
>
> Afzal
>
Iqbal fares just a little better than Ghalib when it comes to recognition in
Iran. Many Iranians know his name, "Iqbal Lahoori", but that is about all.
His books are not available in bookstores, and he is hardly ever quoted.
According to Shaikh Abdul Qadir's foreword to Bang-e-dara, Iqbal came to the
realization that Urdu was not as expressive as Persian for conveying the
intricacies of philosophical thought; consequently he wrote all his work of
greater acclaim in Farsi. That might be so, but it also means that a large
body of his work is outside the reach of most of the people who want to read
him. There is thus a parallel between Ghalib and Iqbal as far as the
popularity of their Persian work is concerned. Ironically, what little the
people in the subcontinent know about Iqbal's Persian poetry, they know
through its translation into English.
There is a lesson in there, somewhere.
Jamil Ahmad
Khalid L Rehman
This is my first time visiting this group and I am very impressed with its
contributions. I wish that I had the same level of talent as you.
I am doing the introductions at my brother's wedding on August 29, and have
been desperately trying to find an appropriate short poem/couplet in Urdu to
recite - something either addressing the wonder of marriage/union, or
something on fate/future/the road ahead. Any suggestions would be greatly
appreciated.
Please send to kre...@juno.com, subject "for Asim Rehman".
Thank you,
Asim Rehman
il_...@yahoo.com
Nevil Shah <nev...@nortel.ca> wrote:
> Dear Yogesh,
> In response to this below excerpt from your post, I must say that some
> languages are just not as expressive in their words as others. The
> language of Urdu, as it relies on the vast language of Arabic, is an
> example of a superior language in terms of expressiveness. Certainly I
> would say it is superior to English, I can think of many a word in Urdu
> which cannot be translated to its fullest impact in English. There are
> actually some words for the vice versa case as well, but I bet they are
> not many at all.
> Interpretation can only be so great, it seems. Nothing can beat the
> original, or nothing can give you the same effect as the original, no
> matter what 2 languages. Ask a person who knows Persian AND Urdu, my
> guess is they will say Khayyam's translation is just not the same as the
> original Persian.
>
> > interpretation. It’s neither an advantage nor a disadvantage to
> > interpret into a related or unrelated language. The only requirement is
> > a complete understanding of the two languages: the rest is innate
> > ability. I view translations and interpretations as a three-step
> > process:
> >
> > 1. Produce an accurate literal translation.
> > 2. Produce an accurate conceptual translation, leaving literal
> > meanings aside.
> > 3. Mold the ideas into the new language which can stand on its own as
> > poetry and still match the eloquence of the original master.
>
> Nevil
This has been a most interesting discussion. I have seen Sethi
Sahib's rejoinder and also a very illuminating article by Bali
Sahib on the relevance of music (and musical instruments).
I would say that the use of the word "superior" by Mr. Shah was
rather inappropriate. Most probably, he meant it in the sense
of being suitable. In other words, he was arguing that Urdu
language is most suitable for expressing certain ideas or thoughts,
and, in that sense, it is "superior" to other languages which, for
various reasons, may not be suitable for this purpose. In the
context of Urdu poetry, I think his argument is well taken. The
subject matter---contentswise and nuanceswise--- of Urdu poetry is
such that it may not be possible to transform the same feelings
and emotions in another language, including English. The milieu
and cultural heritage are absolutely different. This would account
for the rather frigid response of the English-knowing gentleman
when told about the meaning of the Ghalib sher "RagoN men dauDte
phirne ke hum nahin qaayil....". Years ago, I had studied English
Literature in considerable detail, including most of the eminent
poets like Shelley, Keats, Coleridge, Wordsworth, Browning and
Tennyson etc. Each poet's contribution is distinctively different,
even though the first four are classed together as Romantic poets.
I cannot possibly imagine that any of these (or other English poets
for that matter) would have been capable of writing the kind of
poetry that Meer, Momin, Aatish, Naasikh, Ghalib, Zauq, Daagh or
other Urdu poets did. Of course, one cannot find fault with the
English poets' creative faculties. The only thing is that the
the subject-matter is so different. These feelings, emotions and
thought-processes are quite "foreign" to the English poets. It is
in this context that Mr. Shah's observation makes sense---that Urdu
(along with Persian) is uniquely suited to such type of poetry.
English (with all its "superiority") isn't. Actually, even making
such comparisons is rather a futile exercise.
Maulvi Mohammed Husain Azaad, probably the first great chron-
icler and historian of Urdu language and poetry, had vehemently
lamented the over-dependence (so to say) of the Love & Wine elements
in Urdu poetry and the dearth of other subjects which abound in the
poetry of other languages. Other members of this Reformist school
had voiced similar thoughts. Over the years, this "imbalance" has
been "corrected" to some extent by poets like Nazir Akbarabadi
(who emphasised the local or Indian element in his poetry), Pandit
Brij Narayan Chakbast (in whose poetry one finds passionate peaens
to patriotism), Benazeer Shah (whose "nature" poetry is a treat to
read), Iqbal (who wrote on philosophical and mystical themes in a
masterly style) and of course some of the modern "brigade" belong-
ing to the leftist movement. While some of these other elements
and subjects are to be found in abundant measure in the poetry of
other languages, notably English poetry, it is in the depiction of
the typically Urdu-Persian Love & Wine elements that other languages
(including English) are found to be wanting.
What Sethi Sahib has said about language evolving as a medium
of communication and then reaching a higher level as a means of
giving expression to creative faculties is absolutely to the point.
With one proviso that, in different languages, this expression of
creative faculties takes different directions, depending on the
social/ political cross-currents affecting the life and times of
the peoples involved.
As regards Khayyam's quatrain, one need not compare the
original with Waqif's translation, but I am inclined to agree with
Mr. Shah's observation that the two are "not quite the same".
Afzal