یہ آرزو تھی تجھے گُل کے رُو بہ رُو کرتے
Ye Aarzū Thī Tujhe Gul Ke Rū-Ba-Rū Karte
It Was My Desire to Bring You Face-to-Face with the Rose
خواجہ حیدر علی آتش
یہ آرزو تھی تجھے گُل کے رُو بہ رُو کرتے ہم اور بُلبلِ بے تاب گفتگو کرتے
ye aarzū thī tujhe gul ke rū-ba-rū karte ham aur bulbul-e-betāb guftugū karte
It was my desire to bring you face-to-face with the rose; (So that) I and the restless nightingale could have a conversation.
پیامبر نہ میسّر ہوا تو خُوب ہوا زبانِ غیر سے کیا شرحِ آرزو کرتے
payāmbar na mayassar huā to ḳhuub huā zabān-e-ġhair se kyā sharh-e-ārzū karte
It was good that no messenger was available; How could I express my desire through the tongue of a stranger?
مِری طرح سے مہ و مہر بھی ہیں آوارہ کسی حبیب کی یہ بھی ہیں جُستجو کرتے
mirī tarah se mah-o-mehr bhī haiñ āvāra kisī habīb kī ye bhī haiñ justujū karte
Like me, the moon and the sun are also wanderers; They too must be searching for some beloved.
ہمیشہ رنگِ زمانہ بدلتا رہتا ہے سفید رنگ ہیں آخر سیاہ مُو کرتے
hamesha rañg-e-zamāna badaltā rahtā hai safed rañg haiñ āḳhir siyāh mū karte
The color of the times keeps changing always; They (the times) eventually turn black hair into the color white.
لُٹاتے دولتِ دُنیا کو مے کدے میں ہم طلائی ساغرِ مے، نُقرئی سُبو کرتے
luTāte daulat-e-duniyā ko mai-kade meñ ham tilā.ī sāġhar-e-mai nuqra.ī subū karte
We would squander the wealth of the world in the tavern; We would make golden cups for wine and silver pitchers.
ہمیشہ میں نے گریباں کو چاک چاک کیا تمام عمر رفوگر رہے رفو کرتے
hamesha maiñ ne garebāñ ko chaak chaak kiyā tamām umr rafūgar rahe rafū karte
I always tore my collar to shreds (in madness); All my life, the menders kept mending it.
جو دیکھتے تری زنجیرِ زلف کا عالَم اسیر ہونے کی آزاد آرزو کرتے
jo dekhte tirī zanjīr-e-zulf kā aalam asiir hone kī āzād aarzū karte
If they could see the state of the chain of your tresses; The free people would desire to become prisoners.
بیاضِ گردنِ جاناں کو صُبح کہتے جو ہم ستارۂ سحری تکمۂ گُلو کرتے
bayāz-e-gardan-e-jānāñ ko sub.h kahte jo ham sitāra-e-saharī takma-e-gulū karte
If we were to call the whiteness of the beloved's neck 'the dawn'; We would have to call the morning star a button on (her) throat.
یہ کعبے سے نہیں بے وجہ نسبتِ رُخِ یار یہ بے سبب نہیں مُردے کو قبلہ رُو کرتے
ye ka.abe se nahīñ be-vaj.h nisbat-e-ruḳh-e-yār ye be-sabab nahīñ murde ko qibla-rū karte
The connection of the beloved's face to the Ka'aba is not without reason; It is not without cause that they turn the dead facing the Qibla.
سِکھاتے نالۂ شب گیر کو در اندازی غمِ فراق کا اُس چرخ کو عدُو کرتے
sikhāte nāla-e-shab-gīr ko dar-andāzī ġham-e-firāq kā us charḳh ko adū karte
We would teach the night-lament how to breach doors (enter uninvited); We would make that sky an enemy of the sorrow of separation.
وہ جانِ جاں نہیں آتا تو موت ہی آتی دِل و جگر کو کہاں تک بھلالہُو کرتے
vo jān-e-jāñ nahīñ aatā to maut hī aatī dil-o-jigar ko kahāñ tak bhalā lahū karte
If that soul of my soul does not come, then at least death should come; How long, after all, can I keep turning my heart and liver into blood?
نہ پُوچھ عالَمِ برگشتہ طالعی 'آتشؔ' برستی آگ جو باراں کی آرزو کرتے
na pūchh ālam-e-bargashta-tāla.ī 'ātish' barastī aag jo bārāñ kī aarzū karte
Do not ask about the state of my unfortunate fate, 'Aatish'; Fire would rain down if I were to desire rain.
📖Metaphorical & Poetic Meaning
Khwaja Haider Ali Aatish was a master of the Lucknow school of Urdu poetry, known for his eloquence, masterful use of idioms, and a generally optimistic, Rindana (bohemian) tone, though this particular ghazal leans heavily into themes of intense longing and tragic fate.
**Romantic Hyperbole**: The ghazal opens with a classic comparison, elevating the beloved above nature (shaming the rose). It continues with striking metaphors, such as comparing the beloved's radiant neck to the dawn and the morning star to a mere button on her collar, and likening her tresses to irresistible chains that make freedom-lovers crave imprisonment.
**Cosmic Empathy & Fate**: Aatish sees his own restlessness reflected in the cosmos, imagining the sun and moon as fellow wanderers in search of love. He also laments the cruelty of Time (aging) and Fate (Charḳh), wishing he could turn the sky against his own sorrows.
**Divine Love vs. Earthly Ritual**: In a bold couplet, he suggests the religious tradition of burying the dead facing the Ka'aba is actually a subconscious acknowledgement that the Ka'aba resembles the beloved's face—a prime example of Sufi-esque blending of sacred and profane love.
**The Tragic Hero**: The poem concludes with extreme pessimism in the Maqta. The poet's luck is so inverted (bargashta-tāla.ī) that pure, life-giving wishes (rain) are twisted by fate into destructive forces (fire).