The glass is almost empty, but my thirst still remains,
I cannot see the rest of this wine relief the pain.
The rose is about to die, but its beauty still remains,
The thorns feel its wound and cry along with its pain.
The night is almost over, but its moments of truth remains,
When the frigid darkness leaves the dawn just burns more pain.
Saqi ! Another life is about to end, but the last sip still remains,
I ‘An Ocean of Wonders’ yet still drown in her eyes again and again.
The music is about to pause, but the last beat still remains,
When the dancer whorls in ascetic steps he forgets his pains.
The poem I have written is almost done, but my last words remain,
The quieter you become the more you can hear … listen to my pain!
BY: Khawaja Hamad
Somethings are a reality while others are just .... an Afsana,
Our life, the world we see through our eyes ..... our Afsana.
The world full of gloom, tears, emotions all crushed, a reality,
The words that were never spoken, just .... an Afsana.
Saqi ! reality has sunk in hard with this cup of wine,
Promises, hopes and then the beauty of her eyes, just ... an Afsana.
Beloved don't get too lost in the reality you live in,
Life takes many turns, maybe one day I will be your ... Afsana.
Do you ever walk alone in the rain,
Do you ever think about all the pain.
All pain that we caused,
The two, broken un-mended hearts .....
Do you ever feel your eyes burn like a flame,
Do you ever think that you are the one to blame.
When the smoke is real,
It's hard to live, makes you, want to kneel ....
Do you ever look at the skies and wish that you were set free,
Do you ever feel lost and find it hard to breathe.
This love is no game, its hard play,
But don't you worry it will find a way....
voyage into my dreams, drown in the river of disguise,
Fly into space, catch a star and bring back into your eyes.
From the city hidden behind a hundred mountains,
At the bank of Jhelum as I stand,
I write a poem for my dear homeland.
I dream of such moments that bring me back to such a time,
I dream of me at the top of a mountain, sitting next to a Sufi Shrine.
I yearn the rivers that run through the city, like the desire for freedom,
runs through our blood,
I yearn a gardened red fort for the night, rain such, making the earth become mud.
I remember you in every unfulfilled season I experience in exile,
In every journey I take, all distances I cover, every mile.
The wind is calling for me, Beloved don't close your eyes,
Just a few more moments, we will meet at Sangam at sunrise.