Once our hands moved with grace
like fish shoaling through water, flames
through air. Now they are creased
as un-ironed laundry, folded
many times, fidget in our laps
like leaves in the fall. They have served well.
Even though knuckles are pummeled, nails ridged
like limpet shells. These hands have never
been used to beg. So ignore the looks
on others’ faces when they catch sight
of our working tools. Don’t pocket your hands.
Let them speak, they have much more to say.
~ Kishwar Naheed, in an English version by Vicki Husband
زوال٠استØصال
ÛŒÛ Ûاتھ جن میں رگیں ابھرکے
خزاں Ú©ÛŒ آمد کا Ù†Ø§Ù…Û Ø¨Ø± Ûیں
رگیں، کبھی یوں تپش Ø²Ø¯Û ØªÚ¾ÛŒÚº
Ú©Û Ø¬ÛŒØ³Û’ سیّال Ø¢Ú¯
بے آب مچھلیوں Ú©ÛŒ Ø·Ø±Ø ÛÙˆ بے Ú©Ù„
ÛŒÛ Ûاتھ اٹھے Ù†Ûیں دÙعا Ú©Ùˆ
ÛŒÛ Ûاتھ، دست٠طلب Ú©ÛŒ صورت
Ú©Ûیں سبک سر Ù†Ûیں Ûوئے Ûیں
ÛŒÛ Ûاتھ اپنی ÛÛŒ آرزووٓں Ú©Û’
قاتل و ناخدا رÛÛ’ Ûیں
ÛŒÛ Ûاتھ Ú©Û Ø¬Ù† Ú©ÛŒ انگلیوں میں
مشقوں کے عزاب نے
Ûر Ú¯Ø±Û Ú©Ùˆ چپٹا بنا دیا ÛÛ’
Ûر ایک ناخن، Ø´Ú©Ø³ØªÛ Ø³Ø§ØÙ„ Ú©ÛŒ Ø´Ú©Ù„ میں
بدنمائی کا Ø¢Ø¦ÛŒÙ†Û Ø¨Ù†Ø§ ÛÛ’
ÛŒÛ Ù…ÛŒØ±Û’ اچھے دنوں Ú©ÛŒ تصویر٠ابتدا ÛÛ’Û”
Vicki Husband lives in Glasgow and works for the NHS. Vicki’s poems have been published in literary magazines and in an anthology of new Scottish poetry: ‘Be The First To Like This’. She has won prizes in competitions, such as the Edwin Morgan International poetry prize. Vicki’s first collection will be published early in 2016.
Kishwar Naheed is a prolific feminist poet of national and international repute. She is a publicist, columnist, media personality, and has written scripts, documentaries, and poetry. She has been a recipient of numerous prestigious awards including the Government’s civil award, Sitara-e-Imtiaz in 2000, and was one of the 1000 women nominated world-wide for the Nobel Peace Prize in 2005.
This poem is a version of Kishwar Naheed’s ‘The End of Exploitation’, which was originally pulbished by Sang-e-Meel Publications. Vicki Husband’s version was written in conjunction with Kishwar Naheed with the help of highlightarts.org
[…] city-to-city project. Working Hands is my version of a poem by Kishwar Naheed and is published in The Missing Slate as poem of the week (the original poem in Urdu will be added to the site soon). Hopefully soon […]