Classical Kashmiri
Habba-Khatoon (1554 - 1609) was a 16th-century Kashmiri mystic-poet and ascetic, who is also known as 'Nightingale of Kashmir'. She was born in the small village Chandrahar (Chandhaur) just outside Samboora in present Jammu and Kashmir state, and was known under the name Zoon (the Moon) because of her immense beauty until her marriage with Yusuf Shah Chak, who later became ruler of Kashmir, after which she was called Habba Khatoon. When her husband was captured by Mughal emperor Akbar taken away to Bengal never to return, she became an ascetic |
I have wrists with flower bracelets decked Delight in the bloom before it goes I am earth and you sky over me rest And my mysteries beneath you repose I am the feast and you the guest Delight in the bloom before it goes Leila in the dark night lighted a light And her poor mind lost its repose You are the lamp my soul can’t fight چھاو میٛٲنۍ دٲنٔے پوش رَژِھ رَژِھ رٮ۪تہٕ کول چُھم سورانَے بَرٕ ما گژھن اَچھِ پوش کُنہِ حِتہٕ بُلبُلہٕ یِتہٕ اَکہِ آنَے چھاو میٛٲنۍ دٲنٔے پوش بٔرٛگہٕ تیٖر ٲسٕس پٮ۪ٹھ دریٖچہِ جانَے روٗدُم تہِ نا زر جوش اَدٕ یِکھٕ ییٚلہِ بال سورپانہٕ ہانَے چھاو میٛٲنۍ دٲنٔے پوش بَم تَے زِلہٕ چھِس سوز وایانَے Delight in the bloom before it goes Bit by bit my summer is passing away The bloom may wither that lately rose Find some reason to come my way Delight in the bloom before it goes A delicate beauty kept from mundane fray My treasure of zest has met its close You will be here ;and my youth, away Delight in the bloom before it goes دِلہٕ نٕے تھووتھم نہٕ گوش کَم کیٛا گویو ییٚمہِ میٛانہِ وانے چھاو میٛٲنۍ دٲنٔے پوش رَنٛگہٕ رَنٛگہٕ تھُرۍ أمۍ کرٛالن بانے بیوٚن بیوٚن کوٚرنکھ نقوش کیٚنٛہہ درٛایہِ ۂلۍ کٔلۍ کیٚنٛہہ جانانے چھاو میٛٲنۍ دٲنٔے پوش ژٲرِتھ أنۍ مےٚ پھمبہٕ مویانے جانانہٕ مےٚ مو روش حبہٕ خوتوٗنہِ روٗدُم اَرمانَے چھاو میٛٲنۍ دٲنٔے پوش For him, there is all the music now Ever my complaints have made you doze What has been there not in my love Delight in the bloom before it goes Of varied hues the potter makes pots Each pot with a different pattern goes Some come comely and some in knots Delight in the bloom before it goes The finest cotton for you I chose Do not be angry, o my bonny rose Unblessed, Habba Khatoon has come to a close Delight in the bloom before it goes |
Lalleshwari (Lal Ded) (1320–1392) was a mystic of the Kashmiri Shaivite sect.She was a creator of the mystic poetry called vatsun or Vakhs, literally "speech". Known as Lal Vakhs, her verses are the earliest compositions in the Kashmiri language and are an important part in history of Kashmiri literature.[2][3] She inspired some of the later Sufis of Kashmir. She is also known by various other names, including Lal Ded, Lalla, Lal Diddi, Laleshwari, Lalla Yogishwari and Lalishri |
آمہِ پنہٕ سٔدرس ناوِ چھس لَمان کتہِ بوزِ دَیہِ میٛون مےٚ تہِ دی تار آمٮ۪ن ٹاکٮ۪ن پونۍ زن شمان زُو چُھم برٛمان گھرٕ گَژھٕہا With a fragile thread, I pull my boat Won’t my God listen and carry me ashore As water seeps through the pots of unbaked clay My soul is anxious, I want to go home تلہٕ چُھے زیوس تَے پٮ۪ٹھٕ چُھکھ نَژان ونتہٕ مالہِ من کِتھٕ پَژان چُھے سورُے سوٚمبرِتھ ییٚتہِ چُھے مۄژان ونتہِ مالہِ ان کِتھٕ روژان چُھے Over a swamp you are dancing How does your soul allow you? All your possessions would decay here ?How then do you assimilate all the food آیس وتہِ گٔیس نہٕ وَتے سٮ۪منٛز سۄتھے لوٗسُم دۄہ وُچُھم چنٛدس ہارٕ نہٕ اَتے اتھ ناوِ تارس دِمہٕ کیٛا بہٕ I returned not through the path I came from And in the midst of the bank my day is over I looked into my pockets and found not even a penny ?What but do I pay for the ferry fare گورن ووٚننم کُنُے وژُن نیٚبرٕ ووٚننم انٛدر اژُن سُے مےٚ گوم واکھ تہٕ وژُن تَوَے ہیوٚتُم ننٛگَے نژُن An edification that my teacher taught From outside peep inside your heart Thence I feel that self I have found !Uncovered and free I ramble around |
Rasool Mir (Kashmiri: रसूल मीर, رسول مِر) (died 1870) was one of the leading Kashmiri poets of the 19th century. He was born at Doru Shahabad, a historic town in Anantnag district of Jammu and Kashmir. |
بہٕ تہِ نو یہِ دوٗرٮ۪ر چون زَرَے بال مَرٲیو کیٛاہ کرٕ تھووتھم زرٕ زَرَے بال مَرٲیو دِل خستہٕ کٔرتھس نس کیٛاہ چَھے رۄپہٕ سٕنٛز شمشیر کم شیر مٲرِتھ خنٛجرَے بال مَرٲیو دِلبرٕ اژتو میٛانہِ بَرَے، دیوٕ بَرَے دٮ۪ن ژےٚ روٚس گُل زن گٔیسہٕ بَرَے بال مَرٲیو شہمار زُلفو نال ووٚلہم روٗد افسانَے وۄنۍ ونٛتہٕ کم افسوٗن پَرَے بال مَرٲیو عَنبَرٕنٲوِتھ پان پٲران چھس بہٕ ینبٕرزل بوٚنبوٗرٕ میٛانے گھمبَرَے بال مَرٲیو روٚسلہِ گولتھس ہولہٕ حٮ۪سَے قولہٕ مسٲ ڈل بو لولہٕ مَسَے کھٲسۍ بَرَے، بال مَرٲیو I will never endure this separation from you-I will die young for you What do I do, you left pain for me-I will die young for you You left me a torn heart, what a silver scimitar your nose is ! Oh! what lions you put to death with this dagger-I will die young for you Come grace my door I may fill your day with interest Without you I will wither as a flower-I will die young for you These serpents of hair have engulfed me, this has become the stuff of fiction Tell me which stories I should read to you-I will die young for you I, Yemberzal, I am adorning my self, I will miss you, Oh! my Bombur Oh! Rasool you have left me completely devastated-don't go back on your word I will fill up the cups with love-I will die young for you |