POEMS FOREVER

Ghazal

By Mirza Ghalib

Not the blossoming of songs nor the adornments of music:

I am the voice of my own heart breaking.

You toy with your long, dark curls

while I remain captive to my dark, pensive thoughts.

We congratulate ourselves that we two are different:

that this weakness has not burdened us both with inchoate grief.

Now you are here, and I find myself bowing—

as if sadness is a blessing, and longing a sacrament.

I am a fragment of sound rebounding;

you are the walls impounding my echoes

Translation/interpretation

by Michael R. Burch

Empty hands and bare feet

By Abid Agha

In search of precious pearls,

I visit the beach each day.

Hunting for seashell treasures,

From one end to the other.

Persisting in this rhythmic quest,

Until the sun gracefully sets.

And the evening’s gray banners,

Unfurl across the sandy expanse.

Sea gulls form an orderly procession,

Winging their way to their haven.

Floating ships and boats aglow,

Illuminate the tranquil seascape.

The tender caress of cool tides

Lures me from my reverie,

And reluctantly, I retreat, homeward bound,

With empty hands and bare feet.

Kingdom of woe

By Mashaal Farid

So I sat on this couch, with some coffee, holding a pen and paper

To write a blooming ballad

On colorful evenings...

Of chirping birds,

Of the blossoms of buds.

But my vision blurred and all it allowed me to see was:

The crippling leaves,

The hushing trees.

And...

My instinct screams

The autumn still isn’t drained out

It has set its roots deep and built its kingdom of woe

And so can you,

Not able to have your very own lyrics upon spring.

To her

Rumaissa Xaenub Chouhan

Her eyes are a window to the seas of sufferings

Her face is a muse, her presence, brightening

Her heart coloured in the shades of green and yellow

Even in the face of darkness, she is brave yet mellow

Her love strengthens, her touch excites

She gives life like the sun and starlight

She lives as a warrior, is not the weakest link

She can paint the skies grey and pink

She embraces the scars and keeps the pain

Like the phoenix she burns, and gets up again

Not an easy task to hinder her path

For even if she is gentle, one fears her wrath

Without her, the moon doesn’t shine, the birds don’t sing

For the beauty of the universe, she is the spring

She is a wife, a mother, a sister, and a daughter

House becomes home, when there is her laughter

Compiled by SK