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Zulmat Kade Mein Mere - Mirza Ghalib…9;s ghazal

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Another popular ghazal from Mirza Ghalib that was composed by Jagjit Singh. A ghazal that is so reflective of my mood presently as I have almost not sung anything in quite a few months but I am glad I had recorded several songs that I have yet to share. Its very hard to translate ghazals word to word. I did a search just now and found a descriptive translation better than what I had come up with. The third sher is my favorite. It is highly intellectual and for the way Ghalib used the sound of scratching pen's voice on paper while writing to as Angel's voice. Hope you enjoy listening to it.

zulmat kade mein mere shab-e-gham ka josh hai
ik shamma'a hai daleel-e-sahar, so khamosh hai

daagh-e-firaaq-e-sohabat-e-shab kee jalee hooee
ik shamma`a reh gaee hai so wo bhee khamosh hai

aate hain ghaib se ye mazaameen khayaal mein
ghalib, sareer-e-khaama nawa-e-sarosh hai

Translation:

In this my place of darkness, there is this fervor and emotion of the night of grief. There is a candle which is the sign of the morning and that too is silent. Ghalib says in this my house(world) where darkness pervades and there is passion in me due to this night of grief. The extinguished candle is the proof that the morning has come by. As dawn approaches the candle is blown off. So though my world is still dark (and possibly more darker due to the candle being blown off), there is hope that the dawn is coming soon.

Burned by the scar of separation of company of the night. Only one candle has remained, and that too is silent. The poet says being burnt by the wound of separation of the companionship of the night. In this lonely night there was one candle left and that too has been burnt out and the dawn has still not arrived. The burning night of misery has no respite.

These topics comes mysteriously(or from the hidden) to my mind. Ghalib, the scratching sound made by the pen is the voice of the angel. The poet says that such topics/themes comes from the hidden/unknown (some higher power) into his mind. Oh Ghalib! the sound of my pen writing is the voice of the angel.

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