By Faiz Ahmad Faiz, Sain Sucha
Faiz Ahmad Faiz (Urdu: فیض احمد فیض , born thirteen February 1911 – 20 November 1984) MBE, NI, was once an influential left-wing highbrow, progressive poet, and some of the most recognized poets of the Urdu and Punjabi language from Pakistan. A amazing member of the innovative Writers' circulate (PWM), Faiz was once an avowed Marxist. indexed 4 occasions for the Nobel Prize in poetry, he got the Lenin Peace Prize through the Soviet Union in 1962. regardless of being again and again accused of atheism through the political and army institution, Faiz's poetry advised a extra nuanced dating with faith regularly and with Islam specifically. He was once, in reality, enormously encouraged via either secular poetry and South Asia's Sufi traditions. His renowned ghazal Hum Dekhenge is an instance of ways he fused those interests.
Faiz was once controversially named and associated by means of leading minister Liaquat Ali Khan's govt for hatching the conspiracy (see Rawalpindi conspiracy case) opposed to Liaquat Ali Khan's executive, in addition to a left-wing army sponsor Major-General Akbar Khan. Having been arrested by way of army police, Faiz between others got a greatest sentence by means of JAG department, even supposing his sentence used to be commuted after the assassination of Liaquat Ali Khan in 1951.
He remained tremendous influential in Pakistan and his paintings keeps to steer the country's literature and humanities. Faiz used to be publicly commemorated by way of the Pakistan govt after his literary paintings was once publicly counseled and posthumously venerated him with nation's maximum civil award, Nishan-e-Imtiaz, in 1990.
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Extra info for Memory: Poetry of Faiz Ahmad Faiz
Example text
J ( ,;LL ": � �1 . 26 When In our breast, We had observed the wounds of this land, A lot of trust was put in the Curers, A lot of prescriptions were also at hand. It felt as if in a day or two, All the ailments would disappear, And, then, all the wounds should heal. It didn't happen so: The sicknesses we had were so old, The Curers failed to make the diagnosis; Thus, all their efforts went in vain. Now Try to analyse as much you like, And blame as much you feel, The breast is the same, as is the wound; Tell us what is to be done, How can we, now, heal the wound.
In the lake floated a bubble's leaf; Held a while, and then it burst - so softly. So softly, lightly, the pale coloured wine, It was filled in my goblet - so gently. The glass, the carafe, The roses formed by your hands: As if a distant shadow, in some dream, It arose and then faded - so gently. The heart recalled a promise - so tenderly. You said: " Tenderly". The Moon bowed and murmttred: "Still more tenderly": ( 20) ( Duste Ten Sung ) . r I �1, �AJIL-hfJ. v'L(�� Jf/J!. ;J;_,(; . ::-A'. J v..
J ( ,;LL ": � �1 . 26 When In our breast, We had observed the wounds of this land, A lot of trust was put in the Curers, A lot of prescriptions were also at hand. It felt as if in a day or two, All the ailments would disappear, And, then, all the wounds should heal. It didn't happen so: The sicknesses we had were so old, The Curers failed to make the diagnosis; Thus, all their efforts went in vain. Now Try to analyse as much you like, And blame as much you feel, The breast is the same, as is the wound; Tell us what is to be done, How can we, now, heal the wound.