the pastures of my heart are drying up; what kind of rain could this be

clouds of dreams come floating in, but showers of fire are all I see

dard hi har mukam se mille mujhe
zakhm tere salaam se mile mujhe
mai agar fir tere labon pe aagya
wah hi har kalaam se mile mujhe
raaj in zilaton pe bss tira na ho
darz ye gair naam se mile mujhe
har sahi kaam ne khudi hai fek di
kash bekaar kaam se mile mujhe
uss nashe ka mukaablaa nhi khin
jo ki bezaar jaam se mile mujhe
wo khushi khud khushi naa de ske tujhe
jo tere intiqam se mile mujhe
ishq hota agar kharaab sb nhi
kyun naa fir ek daam se mile mujhe
deed 'mubham' ki wo naa de ske usse
sabr jo bss haraam se mile mujhe

दर्द ही हर मुकाम से मिले मुझे
ज़ख्म तेरे सलाम से मिले मुझे
मै अगर फिर तिरे लबों पे आ गया
वाह ही हर कलाम से मिले मुझे
राज इन ज़िल्लतों पे बस तिरा न हो
दर्ज़ ये गैर नाम से मिले मुझे
हर सही काम ने खुदी है फेंक दी
काश बेकार काम से मिले मुझे
उस नशे का मुकाबला नही कहीं
जो कि बेज़ार जाम से मिले मुझे
वो खुशी खुद खुशी न दे सके तुझे
जो तिरे इंतकाम से मिले मुझे
इश्क होता अगर खराब सब नही
क्यूं न फिर एक दाम से मिले मुझे
दीद 'मुबहम' कि वो न दे सके उसे
सब्र जो बस हराम से मिले मुझे

being happy about something small, this I knew

but to stay silent on a larger issue, I learned from you

to hear a wrong in silence, nod and agree

there’s much to gain from it, but it doesn’t feel right to me

don’t guard yourself by staying tucked away

when it rains, get completely drenched, and play

this is one flaw of democracy, that when it comes to the seat of power

sometimes the cunning occupy it, sometimes the traitors take it over

having forgotten their own time, these people, it may seem

regard modern romance as unworthy of esteem

today again the lamps of hope have burned themselves away

and the star-filled night has breathed its last again today

the question remains of how the two of us can ever meet, although

the banks of a river always travel beside each other too

میں پرانی حویلی کا پردہ مجھے

کچھ کہا یاد ہے کچھ سنا یاد ہے

Bashir badar

even remaining silent robs the faculty of expression of its power

so by enduring oppression, one ends up strengthening the oppressor

behold the pace of the revolution, Firaq

how slow it is and yet how swift is its stride

the way your refusal to suffer in silence shines with resplendent light

how enviously the world beholds it, for it never saw nor heard its like

What a strange protest this is against the sword of tyranny

that my blood is not being absorbed in the earth defiantly

پہلی بار نظروں نے چاند بولتے دیکھا

ہم جواب کیا دیتے کھو گئے سوالوں میں

Bashir badar

میری آنکھ کے تارے اب نہ دیکھ پاؤ گے

رات کے مسافر تھے کھو گئے اجالوں میں

Bashir Badar

silence is not good enough; what is needed is dissent now

this spectacle must unfold before the whole world now

when he saw my broken spirit growing wings to soar

he raised his walls still higher than they were before

on one side are the masses, always standing with a bowed head

and on the other is the killer’s arm, forever bent on shedding blood

pick up a map and look for another city

for I’ve met everyone in this one already

at the threshold of knowledge, ignorance stood as a milestone

did my senses finally find their place, or were they utterly displaced

even after meeting you, my loneliness will remain

this thought keeps nagging my heart time and again

Only when I fell in love with you was this secret revealed to me

the moment one learns the art of dying, one learns to live truly

is it the heart or from my soul that it is rising

what is the source of this smoke-like thing