nov subah pholi
Som Nath Bhat “Veer”
Kālu’pẙṭhu’ cī kitsh vẙkhu’ts vạ̄nākh rāth
Rạ̄ts hund pot pạhar gaṭu’ zạli
Thạ̄vmu’ts ạ̄s mạ̄ntu’rạ̄vith śīntsrạ̄vith kāyināth
kāvrēmu’ts sarzamīn ḍạjmu’ts ḥẙsav
Ghạ̄b tārakh nab nu’ kuni ākạ̄śigang
Kālu’ obran nāl volmut āvrith śanvay taraf
Ạchdaran hu’ndi ạ̄s vạhrith
Ḍōnṭhu’ chapu’ mạnzi rūdu’ traṭu’ gagrāyi grẙni
Kot gatshan bēcāru’ bēgar rāh musāfir kot gatshan
Vānu’ penjan pẙṭh vọthān tim vūri vūri rạ̄tirātas
Natu’ zacal khū’man andar
Kuli gọgar ālẙn andar śrepith karān zip’ jānvār
Chus divān lari phirni kun zon jānvār
Kamli tal yath zạdi tu’vuli
Khū’mu’ kūnjas manz me ditsmu’ts śāndu’ sīr
Karsanā phọli gāś bulbul kar pican
Ḍōnṭhu’ tsādar zantu’ kani śāvay karān
Hōś kạritav yithu’ nabā gari nēri kānh
Chusbu’ prārān
Karsanā gatshi mandru’cē ganṭāyi ṭhas
Masjidi manz diyi bạ̄ngi bang
Bod chu day al-lāhu akbar gatshi kanan
Saḥru’ waqtan siryi sakhrith
Cāri beyi lāqam rathas
Vuni nu’ vuni sognẙār kari yiyi sāsu’ gāś
Chalu’vạdu’r gatshi kālu’obras trāvi dav
Vọlru’ kẙn malran vuniundur gav sẙṭhāh
Vọni bihan loti pạ̄ṭhi dẙv rasu’ pursakūn
Vọni phọlu’ni hẙn mālu’ nạ̄npan bālu’ tēg
Vuzmalu’ni joś gatshi Afarwat bālu’ gạ̄b
Bāmbrith beyi obru’ longi chali chali gatshan
Nal nakh phuṭith phambu’ tombi zabarvan bālu’ pẙṭhi
A New Day Will Dawn
Suvir Kaul
Since last evening,
what a devious, threatening night
The last, darkest hour of the night
We had kept consecrated and orderly
the universe
Trembling the blessed land,
its consciousness lost
Disappeared the starry sky,
nowhere the Milky Way
Dark clouds have enveloped and busied
all the six directions
The pythons’ mouths are open
In hailstorms, though sheets of rain,
in the thunderstorm
Where will the poor and unhoused wayfarers go,
where will they go
From the thresholds of the shops,
they leave for faraway places all night
Or inside ragged tents
In tree-holds, shrinking, birds doze
I toss-and-turn, a lone bird
Once under the blanket, torn and holey
In a corner of the tent, my pillow a brick
When will the light dawn, when the bulbul sing
The hailstorm seems to rain stones
Beware, let no one leave the house
I am waiting
When will the temple bell sound
From the mosque, the muezzin will call
God is Great, Allah-o-Akbar, ears will hear
At dawn, the sun prepares
Pulls on the chariot’s reins
Just about now, a soft light will spread
The dark clouds will be scattered, will flee
The waves of the Wular have slept badly
long enough
Now they will settle quietly, calmly, peacefully
Now they will bloom,
the hill tops will wear bright garlands
Lightning’s edge will disappear in
the Apharwat hills*
Scurrying again,
banks of clouds will dissipate
Limbs broken,
they will turn cotton puffs over
the Zabarwan hills**
*The Gulmarg hills
**The Srinagar hills
