The Government of Jack Boots. habib jalib (with punjabi translation)

English Version

If the dacoit had not had
The village guard as his ally
Our feet would not be in chains
Our victory would not defeat imply
Mourn with turbans round your necks
Crawling on your bellies, comply
Once the jack boot government is up
It’s hard, to make it bid good-bye


Punjabi Version

 پنجابی ترجمہ

ڈاکوں دا جے ساتھ نہ دندا پنڈ دا پہرے دار

آج پیران زنجیر نہ ہندی جیت نہ ہندی نہ ہار

پگان اپنے گل وچ پا لو ترو پیٹ دے بہار

 چھڈ جائے تے مشکل لہندی بوٹاں دی سرکار

What Does Pakistan Mean?.by habib jalib

English Version

Bread, clothes and medicine
A little house to live in
Free education, as may right be seen
A Muslim, I, too, have always been
What does Pakistan mean
There is no God, but God, The Rab-al-alameen

For American alms do not bray
Do not, the people, laugh away
With the democratic struggle do not play
Hold on to freedom, do not cave in
What does Pakistan mean
There is no God...

Confiscate the fields from the landowners
Take away the mills from the robbers
Redeem the country from its dark hours
Off with the lordly vermin
What does Pakistan mean
There is no God...

Sind, Baluchistan and Frontier
These three are to Panjab most dear
And Bengal lends them splendour
Anguished should not be their mien
What does Pakistan mean
There is no God...

This, then, is the basic thing
For the people, let freedom’s bell ring
From the rope, let the plunderer swing
Truly they speak, who the truth have seen
What does Pakistan mean
There is no God, but Allah...

Urdu Version

اردو ترجمہ

روٹی کپڑا اور دوا
گھر رہنے کو چھوٹا سا
مفت مجھے تعلیم دلا
میں بھی مسلمان ہوں واللہ
پاکستان کا مطلب کیا
 لا الہٰ ال الله

امریکا سے مانگ نہ بھیک 
مت کر لوگوں کی تضحیک
روک نہ جمہوری تحریک
چھوڈ نہ آزادی کی راہ
 پاکستان کا مطلب کیا
 لا الہٰ ال الله

کھیت وڈیروں سے لے لو
ملیں  لوٹروں سے لے لو
ملک اندھیروں سے لے لو
رہے نہ کوئی عالی جا

 پاکستان کا مطلب کیا
 لا الہٰ ال الله

سرحد سندھ بلوچستان
تینوں ہیں پنجاب کی جان
اور بنگال ہے سب کی آن
آے  نہ ان کے لب پر آہ

پاکستان کا مطلب کیا
 لا الہٰ ال الله

بات یہ ہے بنیادی
غاصب کی ہو بربادی
حق کہتے ہیں حق آگاہ

 پاکستان کا مطلب کیا
 لا الہٰ ال الله 

A palace of wax by Kishwar Naheed

Before I ever married
my mother
used to have
nightmares.
Her fearful screams shook me
I would wake her, ask her
"What happened?"
Blank-eyed she would stare at me.
She couldn't remember her dreams.

One day a nightmare woke her
but she did not scream
She held me tight in silent fear
I asked her
"What happened?"
She opened her eyes and thanked the heavens
"I dreamt that you were drowning".
She said,
"And I jumped into the river to save you".

That night she lightning
killed our buffalo and my fiance.

Then one night my mother slept
And I stayed up
Watching her open and shut her fist
She was trying to hold on to something
Failing, and willing herself to hold on again.

I woke her
But she refused to tell me her dream.

Since that day
I have not slept soundly.
I moved to the other courtyard.

Now I and my mother both scream
through our nightmares.

And if someone asks us
we just tell them
we can´t remember our dreams

The grass is really like me by Kishwar Naheed

The grass is also like me
it has to unfurl underfoot to fulfil itself
but what does its wetness manifest:
a scorching sense of shame
or the heat of emotion?

The grass is also like me
As soon as it can raise its head
the lawnmower
obsessed with flattening it into velvet,
mows it down again.
How you strive and endeavour
to level woman down too!
But neither the earth's nor woman's
desire to manifest life dies.
Take my advice: the idea of making a footpath was a good one.

Those who cannot bear the scorching defeat of their courage
are grafted on to the earth.
That`s how they make way for the mighty
but they are merely straw not grass
-the grass is really like me.

Anticlockwise by Kishwar Naheed

Even if my eyes become the soles of your feet
even so, the fear will not leave you
that though I cannot see
I can feel bodies and sentences
like a fragrance.

Even if, for my own safety, I rub my nose in the dirt till it becomes invisible
even so, this fear will not leave you
that though I cannot smell
I can still say something.

Even if my lips, singing praises of your godliness
become dry and soulless
even so, this fear will not leave you
that though I cannot speak
I can still walk.

Even after you have tied the chains of domesticity,
shame and modesty around my feet even after you have paralysed me
this fear will not leave you
that even though I cannot walk
I can still think.

Your fear of my being free, being alive
and able to think might lead you, who knows, into what travails.

Talking To Myself by Kishwar Naheed

Punish me for I've written the significance of the dream
in my own blood written a book ridden with an obsession
Punish me for I have spent my life sanctifying the dream of the future
spent it enduring the tribulations of the night
Punish me for I have imparted knowledge and the skills of the sword to the murderer and demonstrated the power of the pen to the mind
Punish me for I have been the challenger of the crucifix of hatred
I'm the glow of torches which burn against the wind
Punish me for I have freed womanhood from the insanity of the deluded night
Punish me for if I live you might lose face
Punish for if my sons raise their hands you will meet your end
If only one sword unsheaths itself to speak you will meet your end
Punish me for I love the new life with every breath
Ishall live my life and shall doubly live beyond my life
Punish me for then the sentence of your punishment will end.

We Sinful Women by Kishwar Naheed

It is we sinful women
who are not awed by the grandeur of those who wear gowns

who don't sell our lives
who don't bow our heads
who don't fold our hands together.

It is we sinful women
while those who sell the harvests of our bodies
become exalted
become distinguished
become the just princes of the material world.

It is we sinful women
who come out raising the banner of truth
up against barricades of lies on the highways
who find stories of persecution piled on each threshold
who find that tongues which could speak have been severed.

It is we sinful women.
Now, even if the night gives chase
these eyes shall not be put out.
For the wall which has been razed
don't insist now on raising it again.

It is we sinful women
who are not awed by the grandeur of those who wear gowns

who don't sell our bodies
who don't bow our heads
who don't fold our hands together.

Censorship by Kishwar Naheed

In those times when the camera could not freeze
tyranny for ever

only untill those times
should you have written
that history
which describes tyranny as valour.

Today, gazing at scenes
transferred on celluloid
one can guage
what the scene is like
and the sound
when trees are uprooted from the hillsides.

whether you are happy or sad
you must breathe
whether your eyes are open or closed
the scene,its imprint on the mind
does not change.

The trees that stands in the river
alway remain wooden
cannot become a crocodile.

For a long time now;
we have stood
on the rooftops of stories
believing this city is ours

The earth beneath the foundations has sunk
bu t even now we stand
on the rooftops of stories
assuming life to be
the insipid afternoon's wasted alleyways
with their shattered bricks
and gapping fissures.