Amar Akbar Anthony in blinding Eastmancolor!

No, really, what the heck is Eastmancolor? When you look closely at title screen of each of your favorite classic Bollywood films, you find the simple, but bold little phrase, “EASTMANCOLOR” conspicuously splashed across the screen. It’s gnawed quietly at the back of your mind for years. Is “Eastmancolor” part of the name of the film? Is someone making a not-so-clever reference to Indians themselves (“Who is this MAN from the EAST, anyway?”)!? But the words quickly dissolve, the film begins, and in the excitement and messiness of the resulting masala, why “Eastmancolor” deserves a holy spot right in the title screen remains forever an unsolved mystery. Luckily for you, that’s about to change.

Aradhana in mind-blowing Eastmancolor!

Let’s back ourselves up and unravel this riddle from the start. When the first monopack colour film stocks hit Hollywood in the 1930s, India was eager to catch up and bring colour to Bollywood. But the process was not easy. Apart from being significantly more expensive than traditional black-and-white (silver halide photographic emulsion), coloured film stock brought with it a new set of artistic problems: development of the negative taking both luminosity and color into account.

Mere Huzoor in death-defying Eastmancolor!

The first colour film made entirely in India was Kisan Kanya (1937), produced by Ardeshir Irani who had also pioneered the first talkie of Hindi cinema 6 years earlier. However, poor box-office returns and difficulties and expenses in garnering rights to the American Cinecolor stock development process kept coloured film largely out of range for many years following. Guru Dutt, not surprisingly, was among the later auteurs who help revive its popularity. He experimented with the new colour cinematography in his timeless beauty “Chaudhvin Ka Chand”(1961)  that highlights the effect of (fake) moonlight and colour ranges at night. The opportunity to use colour arrived mid-production, and although Dutt had wanted to reshoot the entire film with the new technology, budget and time-constraints forced him to film only this and one other song in colour before the release. Around the same time, K. Asif too experimented with the range of this new technology, incorporating the dazzling colour song “Pyar Kiya To Darna Kya” into his magnum opus Mughal-e-Azam (1961) as a stunning and vivid tribute to the full glamour of the Mughal Empire.

Junglee in dazzling Eastmancolor!

India’s full-length color feature, Mother India (1957), was a landmark film for many reasons, but notably for demonstrating that coloured film stock was the wave of the future—garnering a nomination for Best Foreign Film at the Academy Awards the year of its release. After the overwhelming success of Mother India, Bollywood began shifting its norm to predominantly coloured film, eventually using black-and-white sparingly for stylistic reasons (as in the film noirs or Teen Devian).

Caravan in jaw-dropping Eastmancolor!

Prior to this era, colourizing film had been a technical and artistic nightmare—as far back as the 1910s and 1920s, filmmakers had been painting each frame of a film by hand, bleaching the film stock and adding color dye, or most popularly, using the expensive Technicolor multi-strip subtractive method. These options had little ground in the competitive, movie-a-minute atmosphere of India, and the hassle of processing such film stock (which often needed to be shipped abroad for the purpose), left India for many years colourless.

Teesri Manzil in heart-stopping Eastmancolor!

Eastmancolor, introduced in 1950 by Kodak was a novel and economic technology that used a single-strip 33mm negative-positive process incorporated into one strip of film. While a popular rival to expensive Technicolor, it unfortunately is also the stock most prone to fading over the years. The Eastmancolor emulsions are made of cyan, yellow, and magenta layers. The cyan is the first to fade—in films you see what were originally blue skies now turned white—then eventually all you have left are the sun-washed reddish hues. This gives us a classic image of badly preserved Bollywood films with faded colours and a warm tint.  Contrast this with most beautifully vivid Technicolor processed films you can watch today (think MGM Judy Garland musicals), and you can see a big difference in how the colours have survived.

Safar in shocking Eastmancolor!

By the time DVDs rolled around, many of the films we know and love in Bollywood had suffered destruction in their original film stocks that no one bothered to repair before a DVD transfer. However, just to give you a hint of what we’ve lost, I’ve personally adjusted the color (albeit imperfectly), to a few stills below from some classic Bollywood films as they would have looked had they been printed on extremely saturated Technicolor. See how subtle thing like this can actually make a HUGE overall difference?! That faded look is merely a tragic artifact of time and neglect.

Pradeep Kumar and Bina Rai in Taj Mahal (1963).
Left: Eastmancolor. Right: Technicolor.

Sunil Dutt and Sadhana in Waqt (1965).
Left: Eastmancolor. Right: Technicolor.

Waheeda Rehman in Guide (1965).
Left: Eastmancolor. Right: Technicolor.

Shammi Kapoor and Asha Parekh in Teesri Manzil (1966).
Left: Eastmancolor. Right: Technicolor.

Aruna Irani in Caravan (1971).
Left: Eastmancolor. Right: Technicolor.

Rajesh Khanna and Sharmila Tagore in Aradhana (1969).
Left: Eastmancolor. Right: Technicolor.

Zeenat Aman and Dev Anand in Hare Rama Hare Krishna (1971).
Left: Eastmancolor. Right: Technicolor.

We often think that Eastmancolor was used only in Bollywood, but it truly started in America as a cheaper rival to Technicolor. In fact, with the advent of Cinemascope (a new widescreen format that once again changed the dynamic of filmmaking), Eastmancolor became THE industry standard—however, in America and unlike in India, the Eastmancolor stock was actually processed still by Technicolor using their sturdier dye-transfer printing. Therefore many films in America billed as “Technicolor” actually have an Eastmancolor base, but would retain their colour fidelity over the years. This is also true of the climax of Mughal-e-Azam which was also shot in and processed by Technicolor and has therefore remained brilliant over the years (helped, of course, also by the recent restoration project). The colours of that film look far different than the colours of classic Eastmancolor Bollywood films like Caravan (1978), Amar Akbar Anthony (1977), or Jewel Thief (1967). Sigh. A little investment would have gone a long way.

Madhubala glitters in K. Asif’s true Technicolor masterpiece Mughal-e-Azam (1961). Now THAT’s colour, people.

Satisfied? More information than you really wanted? I hope everyone’s burning curiosity has been slaked at last. The next time you and your hip friends watch an Eastmancolor film, you’ll be the cool cat who knows the full story. Impress the crowd with your knowledge, and poo-poo those provincial fools who think Eastmancolor simply meant Indian men making films! Fun fact: Eastman is actually the name of George Eastman who founded Kodak Photography in 1889!

This Bollywood Mystery request was submitted by faithful fan Pankaj. As always, shoot us an email and keep those requests coming!

-Mrs. 55

dhrupad:

chaudhvin ka chand (1960)

Considering the wholesome entertainment aspect of Hindi films, the lines dividing genres often blur but some escape this demarcation. If there were ever one genre that never lost its identity over the decades, it would have to be the ‘Muslim social.’ Bollywood’s Muslim socials started with Mehboob’s Najma (1943), a film that unknowingly ended up causing more harm than help to the very genre that it would create. The film laid great stress on the aspect of development, modern thought and education amongst the Muslim community but its celebration of Muslim etiquette and culture is what ended up filtering through. Close on Najma’s heels many films like Barsaat Ki Raat (1960), Chaudhvin Ka Chand (1960), Mere Mehboob (1963) and Bahu Begum (1967) enjoyed great success. There was always an element of a hidden social message in these films, but the greater the success this genre enjoyed, the further it went from the truth. The imagery would be filled with brilliant palaces; birds fluttering around the fountains in opulent gardens; the air would be filled with ittar and there would be poetry flowing from every possible outlet; the men would be only be seen in sherwanis enjoying only a sher more than a paan; the women would adorn burqas or costumes heavier than gold and there was nothing to be unhappy about. The films went on celebrate the whole nawabi culture along with the ghazals, qawwalis and sher-o-shayari to such an extent that it seemed the world depicted by these films wasn’t real.

Additionally, what worked against the Muslim socials and forced these films to exist in a parallel universe were the nuances. Regardless of the era these films depicted, everyone only said ‘Subhan Allah’ or ‘Masha’Allah’ and added a ‘Miyan’ to every sentence. If the 1950s and 1960s saw the genre showcase only the elite or upper class Muslim families, the 1970s paved the path for the so called ‘New-age Muslim socials’ with films like Dastak (1970) and Garam Hawa (1973). After reaching it’s zenith in Kamaal Amrohi’s Pakeezah (1972), the genre now moved out of the havelis and into the real world where Muslims were more than just well-dressed people who spoke beautifully. Dastak showed Hamid and Salma, a young couple, coming to terms with the daily trauma of knocks on their door that sought the previous occupant – a famous mujrewali and Garam Hawa explored the dilemma of the Mirza divided between continuing to stay back or moving to Pakistan post the partition. Films like Bazaar (1982), about the plight of young Muslim girls sold off by hard-pressed parents and Salim Langde Pe Mat Ro (1989), about the aimlessness of lower-class urban Muslim youth would continue to carry on the genre but harm done by an entire generation of films before them couldn’t be undone. The nuances of yore had now transformed into stereotypes. B.R. Chopra’s Nikah (1982), replete with the lilting songs and charming moments, might have momentarily revived the genre but it gave a notion that most Muslim men just looked forward to saying Talak, Talak, Talak and carrying on with life.

Many a times perceptions are a result of convenience and the two together are extremely essential to fuel artistic liberty. A momentary relief from the trials of life is reason enough for an artist to destroy myths or create new ones. Javed Akhtar once famously noted that ‘the idea of Jehangir falling in love with her (Anarkali) and creating a rift between father and son is a story that was created by an Urdu playwright called Imtiaz Ali Taj.’ The writer creation isn’t a myth as big as the one that became a greater truth. Akbar couldn’t converse in Persian, which was the lingua franca during his time, but there is no way that a film like Mughal-e-Azam (1960) would have Akbar speak unlike the emperor he was. More importantly Urdu wasn’t developed at that time and Akbar having grown up in Northern India could very well be conversing in Haryanvi or Bhojpuri but to see Prithviraj Kapoor with that dialect would be unimaginable. If the world of Bollywood were to be believed, unless a Muslim speaks like a shayar there is no reason to make him a Muslim (Arbaaz Khan in Shootout at Lokhandwala); every South Indian must eat messily with their hands and for authenticity they must include curd in every thing (Shahrukh Khan in Ra.One), every Sardar must be over-the-top (Sunny Deol in half a dozen films), every Pathan must say ‘wallah‘ the moment they open their mouth, every Parsi must be dim enough for the entire three minutes of their screen time. Here, at least Bollywood is able to maintain consistency.

Born a cinephile and a close observer of society, the author is an award-winning documentary filmmaker/writer. He is a regular contributor to leading Indian publications and is currently working on his first book. Find out more about him here and follow him @gchintamani

The views expressed by this blogger and in the following reader comments do not necessarily reflect the views and policies of the Dawn Media Group.

Music Director Ravi

MUMBAI – MAHARASHTRA – INDIA           MARCH 14 , 2012           02.30 A.M.

I do know and would like to affirm that common people and connoisseurs , both remember all the following songs of Hindi films :

Darshan Do Ghanshyam Nath Mori Ankhiyan Pyasi Re ……………….

Chaudhvin Ka Chand Ho Ya Aaftab Ho …………………………

Husnwale Tera Jawab Nahin ……………………………………..

Baazi Kisi Ne Pyar Ki Jeeti Ya Har Di …………………………..

Bar Bar Dekho Hazar Bar Dekho Ki Dekhne Ki Cheez Hai Hamara Dilruba …..

Itni Haseen Itni Jawan Rat Kya Karen ………………………………..

Chalo Ik Bar Phir Se Ajnabi Ban Jayen Hum Dono ……………………..

Tora Man Darpan Kahlaye …………………………………

Chhoo Lene Do Nazuk Hoton Ko Kuchh Aur Nahin Hai Jam Hai Ye …………….

Tumhin Meri Manzil Tumhin Meri Pooja Tumhin Devta Ho ………………

Badi Der Bhai Nandlala Teri Rah Take Brijbala ………………………..

O Meri Zohra Jabin Tujhe Maloom Nahin ………………………….

Bhari Duniya Men Akhir Dil Ko Samjhane Kahan Jayen ………………..

Raha Gardishon Me Hardam Mere Ishq Ka Sitara ……………………….

Gharibon Ki Suno Wo Tumhari Sunega Tum Ek Paisa Doge Wo Dus Lakh Dega .

Neele Gagan Ke Tale Dharti Ka Pyar Pale …………………………….

Tujhko Rakhe Ram Tujhko Alla Rakhe ………………………………….

Milti Hai Zindagi Men Muhabbat Kabhi Kabhi ……………………….

Bachche Man Ke Sachche …………………………….

Babul Ki Duayen Leti Ja Ja Tujhko Sukhi Sansar Mile …………………….

Tujhe Sooraj Kahoon Ya Chanda Tujhe Deep Kahoon Ya Tara ……………….

Sansar Ki Har Shai Ka Itna HI Fasana Hai ……………………………

Aaj Mere Yaar Ki Shadi Hai ………………………………

Dil Ke Arman Aansuon Men Bah Gaye ………………………….

Dil Ki Ye Arzoo Thi Koi Dilruba Mile ………………………

These are some of the songs , which are still famous . These are some of the songs , which need no introduction . These are some of the songs , which any one can easily hum because their tunes are still echoing  in everyone’s mind . May be names of the films are not remembered . May be names of the star – cast is forgotten . May be name of the music director is also not known to the younger generation . But songs endure . Melody survives and is still fresh  .

Creator of these immortal songs is a music maestro known as Ravi . Originally named as Ravi Shankar Sharma , Ravi was born in Delhi and wanted to become a play back singer . He was , ironically , not trained in Indian classical music . He moved to Mumbai in 1950 and started his journey in Hindi films .

Poster of Anand Math

He became Hemant Kumar’s assistant for ” Anand Math “ and sang in the chorus also in the Vande Mataram song . He , then , was signed by Devendra Goel , a top – notch director of his time , for a film called ” Vachan ” [ 1955 ] and after the success of that film , Ravi never looked back .

Then followed many hit films and numerous super – hit songs , which are still popular . ” Vachan ” [ 1955 ] , ” Dilli Ka Thug ” [ 1958 ] , ” Chirag Kahan Roshni Kahan ” [ 1959 ] , ” Chaudhvin Ka Chand ” [ 1960 ] , ” Ghunghat ” [ 1960 ] , ” Gharana ” [ 1961 ] , ” Nazrana ” [ 1961 ] , ” China Town ” [ 1962 ] , ” Gehra Daag ” [ 1963 ] , ” Gumrah ” [ 1963 ] , ” Ustadon Ke Ustaad ” [ 1963 ] , ” Yeh Raaste Hain Pyaar Ke ” [ 1963 ] , ” Bharosa ” [ 1963 ] , ” Door Ki Awaaz ” [ 1964 ] , ” Kaajal ” [ 1965 ] , ” Khandaan ” [ 1965 ] , ” Waqt ” [ 1965 ] , ” Do Badan ” [ 1966 ] , ” Dus Lakh “  [ 1966 ] , ” Phool Aur Patthar ” [ 1966 ] , ” Humraaz ” [  1967 ] , ” Meharban ” [ 1967 ] , ” Aankhen ” [ 1968 ] , ” Do Kaliyaan ” [ 1968 ] , ” Neel Kamal ” [ 1968 ] , ” Aadami Aur Insaan ” [ 1969 ] , ” Ek Phool Do Maali ” [ 1969 ] , ” Dhund ” [ 1973 ] , ” Aadmi Sadak Ka ” [ 1977 ] and ” Nikah ” [ 1982 ] .

Poster of Chirag Kahan Roshni Kahan

Poster of Phool Aur Patthar

Poster of Aadmi Sadak Ka

incidentally ” Nikah ” [ 1982 ] was his last Hindi hit . In 80s he started giving music in Malayalam films as Bombay Ravi . He gave several hit songs in Malayalam also .

His two songs ; Babul Ki Duayen Leti Ja from ” Neel Kamal ” [ 1968 ] and Aaj Mere Yaar KI Shadi Hai from ” Aadmi Sadak Ka ” [ 1977 ] are still popular . In all the marriages in the North India these two songs are must . No marriage procession in North India even today ever starts without Aaj Mere Yaar Ki Shadi Hai . And no girl  ever leaves her parental home even today without Babul Ki Duayen leti Ja Ja Tujhko Sukhi Sansar Mile  being played in the background . This is genius of Ravi Sahab .

This genius music director left this world on March 07 , 2012 in Mumbai at the age of 86 .

It is sad that he never got his due from the industry . Though he repeatedly worked for B. R. Chopra , Ramanand Sagar , Gemini Productions , AVM Productions , Guru Dutt Films , but was never considered A Grade music director . He gave music for Raj Kapoor starrer , Meena Kumari Starrer , Rajendra Kumar Starrer , Shammi Kapoor Starrer but still was not included in the A list . He gave music for the first production of Sunil Dutt and first super – hit of Dharmendra but was always neglected .

His last days were painful as he was allegedly tormented by his estranged son and daughter – in – law Varsha Usgaonkar .

I am saddened by his sad demise . At this moment I am remembering his song from ” Dhund ” ] 1973 ]  ; Sansar Ki Har Shai Ka Itna Hi Fasana Hai ; Ik Dhund Se Aana Hai Ik Dhund Men Jana Hai ………..

VIDUR

MUMBAI – MAHARASHTRA – INDIA

www.vidur.co.in

www.vidurfilms.com

www.twitter.com/VidurChaturvedi

www.jaibhojpuri.com/profile/VidurChaturvedi

Related articles

• Noted musician Ravi dies at 85 (ibnlive.in.com)
• Ravi [Bombay Ravi] passes away.. (satyamshot.wordpress.com)
• A melody maker par excellence (thehindu.com)
• Bollywood composer Ravi dies (hollywood.com)
• Bombay Ravi dead (thehindu.com)

Muslim social dramas have always been one of my favorite genres of old Bollywood films. It is truly difficult to beat the classiness and sophistication that exudes from films such as Mere Huzoor (1968), Chaudhvin ka Chand (1961), or Bahu Begum (1967). The combination of beautiful costumes, intricate use of Urdu, and riveting drama makes watching these movies a truly memorable experience. Here, I’m going to a share with you what is considered to be one of the most romantic songs in the history of Hindi cinema: the title song from Mere Mehboob (1963), a film that embodies the essence of Lucknowi splendor as one of the best-known examples of the Muslim social.

In this film, student poet Anwar (played by Rajendra Kumar) writes this nazm after catching a brief glimpse of the aptly named Husna (played by Sadhana). One look at Husna’s eyes through her burkha is enough to make Anwar’s heart melt, and he is convinced by his friend to sing this piece at the university’s Urdu poetry competition (seriously, why do these not happen anymore?). Smitten by this handsome poet, Husna instantly feels a connection to Anwar but is too shy to make a move. I’ll save a full review of this movie for a later post, but I can tell you that this 3.5-hour film has the right mix of over-the-top melodrama, ironic plot twists, and beautifully constructed songs.

Composed by Naushad, penned by Shakeel Badayuni, and rendered by Mohammed Rafi, this song is a true classic that should be familiar to all the hopeless romantics out there who are obsessed with Hindi cinema like us. One of the most striking things about Mere Mehboob is the formality of the courtship between Husna and Anwar, and the lyrics of this song reflect the conventions (e.g. the practice of purdah) that were followed by lovers when pursuing one another in those days. It might just be the old-fashioned side of me, but anyone who can dedicate a poem like this to me is a total keeper in my book. So, the next time you’re around your favorite crush, why not try quoting a few lines from this gem? You never know what could happen…

-Mr. 55

P.S. The movie also contains a female version of this song rendered by Lata Mangeshkar. I am the self-proclaimed president of the Lata fan club, but even I must concede here that the Rafi version is unbeatable. What do you guys think? Let us know in the comments

Sadhana startles Rajendra Kumar by reciting his poem on the other side of the screen in this classic scene from Mere Mehboob (1963).

Lyrics:

mere mahbuub tujhe, merii muhabbat ki qasam
phir mujhe nargisii aa.nkho.n kaa sahaaraa de de
meraa khoyaa huaa rangiin nazaaraa de de
mere mahbuub tujhe.

ai mere khvaab kii taabiir, merii jaan-e-ghazal
zindagii merii tujhe yaad kiye jaatii hai
raat din mujhko sataataa hai tasavvur tera
dil ki dhaDkan tujhe avaaz diye jaatii hai
aa mujhe apnii sadaao.n ka sahaaraa de de
[meraa khoyaa huaa rangiin nazaaraa de de
mere mahbuub tujhe]

bhuul saktii nahii.n aa.nkhe.n voh suhaanaa manzar
jab teraa husn mere ishq se Takraayaa thhaa
aur phir raah me.n bikhre thhe hazaro.n naghme
mai.n voh naghme terii avaaz ko de aayaa thhaa
saaz-e-dil ko unhii.n giito.n kaa sahaaraa de de
[meraa khoyaa huaa rangiin nazaaraa de de
mere mahbuub tujhe]

yaad hai mujhko merii umr ki pahlii voh ghaDii
terii aa.nkho.n se koii jaam piiyaa thhaa mai.ne
merii rag-rag me.n koii barq-si leheraayii thhii
jab tere marmarii haathho.n ko chhuu.naa thhaa mai.ne
aa mujhe phir unhii.n haatho.n kaa sahaaraa de de
[meraa khoyaa huaa rangiin nazaaraa de de
mere mahbuub tujhe]

mai.ne ek baar terii ek jhalak dekhii hai
merii hasrat hai ki mai.n phir tera diidaar karuu.n
tere saaye ko samajh kar mai.n hasii.n taaj mahal
chaa.ndni raat me.n nazaro.n se tujhe pyaar karuu.n
apnii mahkii huii zulfo.n kaa sahaaraa de de
[meraa khoyaa huaa rangiin nazaaraa de de
mere mahbuub tujhe]

DhuunDhtaa huu.n tujhe har raah me.n har mahfil me.n
thhak gaye hai.n merii majbuur tamanna ke qadam
aaj kaa din hai merii ummiid kaa aakhrii din
kal na jaane mai.n kahaa.n aur tu kahaa.n ho sanam
do ghaDii apnii nigaaho.n kaa sahaaraa de de
[meraa khoyaa huaa rangiin nazaaraa de de
mere mahbuub tujhe]

saamne aake zaraa pardaa uThaa de rukh se
ek yahii.n mera ilaaj-e-gham-e-tanhaayii hai
terii furqat ne pareshaan kiyaa hai mujhko
ab to mil jaa ki merii jaan pe ban aayii hai
dil ko bhuulii huii yaado.n kaa sahaaraa de de
[meraa khoyaa huaa rangiin nazaaraa de de
mere mahbuub tujhe]

Glossary:
mahbuub: beloved; muhabbat: love ; qasam: vow; nargisii: daffodil; sahaaraa: support; rangiin: colorful; nazaaraa: sight, vision; khvaab: dream taabiir: interpretation, meaning; jaan-e-ghazal: soul of poetry; sataanaa: to pester; tasavvur: imagination, thought; sadaa: voice, call; suhaanaa: pleasant; manzar: sight, vision; husn: beauty; Takraanaa: to collide; bikhre: scattered; naghmaa: song; saaz-e-dil: the instruments of the heart; ghaDii: moment; jaam piinaa: to drink wine; rag-rag: veins; barq: electricity; marmarii: soft, delicate; chhuunaa: to touch; jhalak: a glimpse; hasrat: desire; diidaar karna: to catch a glmpse ; mahkii huii: fragrant; mahfil: a gathering/evening of poetry, music, or dance; thhak jaanaa: to become weary;  majbuur: helpless; tamanna: desire; qadam: footsteps; ummiid: hope; nigaahe.n: eyes; pardaa: veil; rukh: face; ilaaj-e-gham-e-tanhaayii: cure for the sorrow of solitude;  furqat: separation; pareshaan: anxious, concerned

Rough Translation:

My beloved, in the name of my love,
Please, once again, lend me the support of your daffodil-like eyes,
And please return the colorful vision that I have lost.

You are the meaning of my dreams and the soul of my poetry.
My existence continues to remember you,
And thoughts of you pester me day and night
Please come and lend me the support of your voice.
And please return the colorful vision that I have lost.

My eyes are unable to forget that beautiful sight
When your beauty collided with my love,
And scattered on the path remained a thousand melodies
That I had gifted to your voice.
Please lend me the support of those songs to the instruments in my heart
And please return the colorful vision that I have lost.

I remember the first moments of my life
When I had drunk some wine from your eyes.
A flash of lightning surged through my veins,
As I brushed upon your velvet-like hands.
Please come and lend me the support of those hands,
And please return the colorful vision that I have lost.

I have caught a glimpse of you just once,
But my desire is to behold the sight of you once again.
Mistaking your shadow for the beautiful Taj Mahal,
I have been making love to you on moonlit nights with my glances.
Please lend me the support of your fragrant tresses,
And please return the colorful vision that I have lost.

I seek you in every path and in every gathering,
As the feet of my helpless desires have become weary.
Oh beloved, who knows where you and I will be tomorrow?
Please lend me the support of your eyes for a few moments today,
And please return the colorful vision that I have lost.

Please come in front of me and lift the veil hiding your face,
This is the only solution for the sorrow of my solitude.
Being separated from you has made me anxious,
Now come meet me because this separation is threatening my existence.
Please lend the support of forgotten memories to my heart,
And please return the colorful vision that I have lost.