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22/M/Srinagar
A young poet born on soil of martyrdom Kashmir. Mirza Sharafat is a noted name in English poetry. Though a romantic poet, filled with melancholy ...
Poems
Shashank K Dwivedi
Oct 2015
Jo tum Magroor ** to **
Mujhe Magroor mat samjho
Jo tum Magroor ** to **
Mujhe Magroor mat samjho
Mere in rashto ko
Manzilo se dur mat samjho
Sharafat ko meri kamjorio
Ka naam mat dena
Mai chup hu Soch kar ke kuch
Mujhe majboor mat Samjho
Mujhe Magroor mat samjho
Jo tum Magroor ** to **
Mujhe Magroor mat samjho
Mere in rashto ko
Manzilo se dur mat samjho
Sharafat ko meri kamjorio
Ka naam mat dena
Mai chup hu Soch kar ke kuch
Mujhe majboor mat Samjho
Copyright© Shashank K Dwivedi
email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
Follow me on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/skdisro
email-shashankdwivedi.edu@gmail.com
Follow me on Facebook - https://www.facebook.com/skdisro
Mirza Sharafat Hussain Beigh
Jan 2018
On Thursday evening
I pray near a Grave in Kashmir
Incense sticks
And candles
Lit in bundles
Aroma makes me feel
As I kneel
This is land of my forefathers
Where they rest
I too look for a place nearest
I belong to these graves
Here my soul craves
To sleep till eternity
In the Eden of divinity
What else I Should ask
That has more dignity
~
Mirza Sharafat
I pray near a Grave in Kashmir
Incense sticks
And candles
Lit in bundles
Aroma makes me feel
As I kneel
This is land of my forefathers
Where they rest
I too look for a place nearest
I belong to these graves
Here my soul craves
To sleep till eternity
In the Eden of divinity
What else I Should ask
That has more dignity
~
Mirza Sharafat
Mirza Sharafat visits an ancestral graveyard at Zadibal in Srinagar. On every Thursday evening Shiitte Muslims light candles and incense sticks on graves. This aura relieves poet and he feels his belongingness to graves where his forefathers rest. He looks for a place nearest where his soul craves to sleep for eternity.
Mirza Sharafat Hussain Beigh
Mar 2018
Shall I tell Spring?
That you have clutched a pair of flowers
Withered in your hands
They resemble us...
Shall I tell summer?
That your lips and eyes have parched
By the vehement love
So long ago.
Shall I tell autumn?
That your heart has grown crispier
More tender than Chinar leaves
Trampled by me.
Shall I tell winter?
Your ***** is so frozen
No longer which, yearns for warmth
So fragile to split.
~
Her Orchards of Despair
-Mirza Sharafat Hussain
That you have clutched a pair of flowers
Withered in your hands
They resemble us...
Shall I tell summer?
That your lips and eyes have parched
By the vehement love
So long ago.
Shall I tell autumn?
That your heart has grown crispier
More tender than Chinar leaves
Trampled by me.
Shall I tell winter?
Your ***** is so frozen
No longer which, yearns for warmth
So fragile to split.
~
Her Orchards of Despair
-Mirza Sharafat Hussain
There is no day, no moment, poet does not think of Leila. Her Orchards in spring are full of despair, poet counts the miseries so brilliantly.