Khoon se aa’o vuzuu kar’eN – shaida chiini-liy yuNg ven
1
kart’e haiN gar voh hausla-e guftugu kar’eN
ek shart hai keh baat magar ruu-ba-ruu kar’eN
2
aah-o-fuGhaan-e bulbul-e nalaaN to sun chuk’e
ab Khaamoshi-e gul se zara guftugu kar’eN
3
aaNkheN bichhaa’e ahl-e sitam haiN khaR’e hu’e
aao saleeb-e daar ko zeb-e gulu kar’eN
4
Gham par na eKhtiyaar, zamaana na Gham-gusaar
aise meN vasl-e yaar ki kya aarzu kar’eN
5
nazr-e bahaar ho chuka hai a’ek-a’ek taar
ab pairahan kahan keh jis’e hum rafu kar’eN
6
anqa hi ho chuki hai zamaane se aafiyat
karne ko yuN talaash to hum kuu-ba-kuu kar’eN
7
tasKhiir-e kaa’enaat ka sauda bura nahiN
lekin ba-qadr-e zarf hi ye aarzu kar’eN
8
raah-e vafa meN chaahiye sajdoN ka ehtemaam
shaida Khud apne Khoon se aa’o vuzuu kar’eN

shaida chiini-liu yuNg ven (1931-2015), born in kalkatta, but family moved to jamshedpur in 1934 where shaida lived and worked as a dentist.  His family spoke Chinese as their first language, but were fluent in urdu.  His early schooling was in urdu, switched to English and then back to urdu in high school.  Fell in love with it and memorised ash’aar.  He read his first Ghazal at a mushaa’era in 1951.  He played a Chinese instrument known as the Moon Lute often along with his Ghazal reading at mushaa’era.  He was a member of the Progressive Writers’ Association but not very active in it.  In an interview to the Deccan Herald he said, “”I am a Buddhist by birth and a communist by heart, but Urdu is the language of my soul. It is not the language of any one religion; it is the language of culture and humanity. My children are Christians, my daughters find peace in Shiva and Sai Baba—we are a miniature India under one roof.”  He himself has written several n’aat – odes to mohammed, the founder of islaam.  He was deeply disappointed (perhaps disillusioned) because of his mistreatment after the India-China war of 1962 and later religious riots of 1964.  His work was collected and published by family and friends towards the end of his life, while he was bedridden.
1
kart’e haiN gar voh hausla-e guftugu kar’eN
ek shart hai keh baat magar ruu-ba-ruu kar’eN

The key question is – who is voh.  It can be the beloved in the following scenario.  The beloved has made many false promises and now regretful and wants to talk things over.  The lover is ready, but would like a face to face discussion so he can drive home her regret and shame.  It is also likely that by voh he means the adversary or perhaps powerful rulers.  Thus, if they can summon the courage for a conversation, I am ready, except that there is one condition – the conversation has to be face to face.  This seems to be a challenge – say what you have to say to my face.
2
aah-o-fuGhaan-e bulbul-e nalaaN to sun chuk’e
ab Khaamoshi-e gul se zara guftugu kar’eN

Here, the poet moves beyond the conventional, laments of the “wailing nightingale.” By shifting attention to the “silence of the rose,” the poet suggests that deep understanding lies in what is left unsaid—in the quiet, inherent grace of the beloved or the unspoken truths of nature.
3
aaNkheN bichhaa’e ahl-e sitam haiN khaR’e hu’e
aao saleeb-e daar ko zeb-e gulu kar’eN

aaNkheN bichaana is saying the implies eagerly waiting for something or someone (usually it is used in a positive welcoming sense).  Here “people of tyranny” (ahl-e sitam) are waiting eagerly to see what will happen/what you will do.   Instead of cowering in fear, the poet invites us to embrace the “cross of the gallows” (saleeb-e daar) as an ornament for our throats (zeb-e gulu). It is a call to accept martyrdom or sacrifice as a mark of beauty and integrity in the face of oppression.
4
Gham par na eKhtiyaar, zamaana na Gham-gusaar
aise meN vasl-e yaar ki kya aarzu kar’eN

The poet reflects on total helplessness—the world is indifferent and there are no comforters (Gham-gusaar). In such a state of existential despair, the longing for union (vasl-e yaar) feels futile.
5
nazr-e bahaar ho chuka hai a’ek-a’ek taar
ab pairahan kahan keh jis’e hum rafu kar’eN

The garment of life is worn thin; every thread has been surrendered/sacrificed (nazr-e bahaar) to the passionate/madness of spring. There is no fabric left to mend (rafu kar’eN). This metaphor represents the total depletion of the self, nothing remains of the past to be repaired or salvaged.
6
anqa hi ho chuki hai zamaane se aafiyat
karne ko yuN talaash to hum kuu-ba-ku kar’eN

aafiyat (peace, security, safety) has become an anqa – a mythical, non-existent bird. It is nowhere to be found in this world. In this search, I would happily have gone from street to street (kuu-ba-kuu) but there is no aafiyat to be found.
7
tasKhiir-e kaa’enaat ka sauda bura nahiN
lekin ba-qadr-e zarf hi ye aarzu kar’eN

The ambition to conquer the universe (tasKhiir-e kaa’enaat) is noble in spirit. However, the poet adds a crucial caveat: one’s desires should be measured by the capacity of one’s vessel (ba-qadr-e zarf). It is a meditation on the balance between grand ambition and self-awareness.
8
raah-e vafa meN chaahiye sajdoN ka ehtemaam
shaida Khud apne Khoon se aa’o vuzuu kar’eN

In the path of fidelity (raah-e vafa), true devotion requires a total commitment. The poet concludes with a radical act of purification: performing vuzuu (ritual ablution) not with water, but with one’s own blood. It signifies that the ultimate sacrifice is the only way to attain spiritual cleanliness and fulfill the promise of love.