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Dr Zik May 2020
I am a your wish
travel between two milestones
in search of
You Lord!
A Ziket from Zikorean Poetry
Book: Simple Words
Poet: Dr Zafar Iqbal Khokhar
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Withered Roses
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How can my words describe you,
desire of the nightingale's heart?
The gentle morning breeze was your nativity,
the aromatic afternoon garden, a tray of perfumes.

My tears welled up like dew,
till in my abandoned heart your rune grew,
this dream-emblem of love:
this spray of withered roses.



Coal to Diamond
Allama Iqbal, after Nietzsche
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My flesh is so vile, I am less than dust
while your brilliance out-blazes the mirror's heart.
My darkness defiles the chafing-dish
before my cremation; a miner's boot
tramples my cranium; I'm covered with ashes.

Do you know my existence's bleak essence?
Condensations of smoke, black clouds stillborn
from a single spark; while in feature and nature
starlike, your every facet's a splendor,
gleam of the King's crown, the scepter's jewel.

"Please, friend, be wise," the diamond replied,
"assume a gemlike dignity! Carbon must harden,
to fill one's ***** with radiance. Burn
because you are soft. Banish fear and grief.
Be adamant as stone, be diamond."



O, Colorful Rose!
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You are not troubled with solving enigmas
O, beautiful Rose! nor do you have sublime feelings in your heart

Though you ornament the assembly, still you flower apart
(In life's assembly I am not permitted such comforts)

In my garden I am the complete orchestra of longing
While your life is devoid of love's passionate warmth

To pluck you from the branch is not my custom
(I am not blinded by mere appearances)

O, colorful rose this hand is not your tormentor
(I am no callous flower picker!)

I am no intern to analyze you with scientific eyes
Like a lover, I see you with nightingales' eyes

Despite your innumerable tongues, you have chosen silence
What secrets, O Rose, lie concealed in your *****?

Like me you're a leaf from the garden of Ñër
Far from the garden I am, far from the garden we both are

You are content, but I am a scattered fragrance
Pierced by the sword of love in my quest

This turmoil within me might be a means of fulfillment
This torment, a source of illumination

My frailty might be the beginning of strength
My envy might mirror the cup of divination

My constant vigil is a world-illuminating candle
And teaches this steed, the human intellect, to gallop



Bright Rose
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You cannot loosen the heart's knot;
perhaps you have no heart,
no share in the chaos

of this garden, where I yearn (for what?)
but harvest no roses.
Of what use to me is wisdom?

Having abandoned the garden,
you are at peace, while I remain anxious,
disconsolate in my terror.

Perhaps Jamshid's empty cup
foretold the future, but may wine
never satisfy my mouth,

till I find you in the mirror.

Jamshid's empty cup: Jamshid saw the reflection of future events in a wine cup.



Firefly
by Allama Iqbāl
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

A candle among roses
In the evening garden
A shooting star
A flash of the moon's gown
A spark of the sun's hem
In syncopated eclipse

Emissary of day
In night's dark kingdom
Unseen at home
Lucid in exile
Opposite of the moth
The firefly is light



The Age of Infancy
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The earth and sky remained unknown to me
The expanse of my mother's ***** was my only world

Her every movement communicated life's pleasures to me
Yet my own voice conveyed only meaningless words

During infancy's pain, if someone made me cry
The clank of the door-chain would comfort me

Oh! How I stared at the moon those long, lonely hours,
Regarding its silent journey through broken clouds

I would ask repeatedly about its mountains and its plains
Only to be surprised by some prudent lie

My eye was devoted to seeing, my lips to speech
My heart was inquisitiveness personified



Fiction
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

"Why didn't you make me immortal?"
Beauty asked God, perplexed.

God, vexed, replied: "The world is a fiction
fashioned from emptiness."

"You were born bright, ever-changing:
true beauty is transient, estranging."

The moon overheard their discord,
beamed it on to the morning star

who whispered dawn's clouds their dark secret
till the dew heard it all, formed a tear,

and drenched all the shivering rose petals
(now survived by the hardier nettles).



Excerpts from "The Tulip of Sinai"
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

2

My heart is bright, from burning inwardly.
My eyes weep blood, for all the world to see.
Am I the fool, or is it only he
Who calls all Love mere wild insanity!

3

Love grants the gardens gentle gusts of May.
Love teaches the meadow flowers to be gay.
Love rockets bright rays deep into the sea
So that fishes' schools can find their way.

4

Love reckons the price of eagles cheap.
Love surrenders pheasants to the falcons’ steep
Murderous dives. Our offended hearts weep
till suddenly, out of ambush, Love leaps!

5

Love paints the tulip petals’ hue.
Love stirs the bitter spirit’s rue.
And, could you could cleave this clod of carrion clay,
You would behold Love’s bloodshed too.

7

A spent scent in a garden: men expire.
I know not what I seek, no, nor require.
But whether I am satisfied, or starved,
Still here I burn: a martyr to desire.

13

How long, my heart, will you be like the moth,
Infatuated with a bit of cloth
Or winking flame? Just once, my foolish heart,
Be fully consumed in yourself, or else depart.



Excerpts from "Cordoba"
by Allama Iqbāl
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I

Linker of day and night,
Creator of events,
Foundation of life and death,
Two-toned silken thread,
Weaver of possibilities,
Suggester of future prospects ...

Linker of day and night,
sitting in judgment over us,
determining our worth
whenever we're lacking ...

Death, man's destiny.
Death, my destiny.
Is there any other reality?

The pulse of an age,
caught between day and night
as all human works vanish,
as black and white blur,
annihilation, our end

II

And yet in this form:
hints of Eternity,
of the splendor of Love ...

Love, life's foundation!
Death has no power over Love!

Love, the tide, the greater torrent,
Love, the nameless eons,
Love, Gabriel's breath,
Love, God's Prophet,
Love, the Word of God,
Love, the radiant rose,
Love, the transcendent wine,
Love, the royal goblet,
Love, life's music,
Love, life's passion,
Love, desire's inferno.

III

O, Mosque of Cordoba,
born of Love with no prior existence,
nor color nor mortar nor stone,
nor lyre nor song nor sermon ...

O, man's passionate creation!
As a drop of blood turns
cold stone into beating hearts,
so the heart fills with joy,
illumination and melody.

You brighten my heart;
my song wells up in my breast!
You lead a man's heart
Into God's loving presence!

But man's passionate love
for God is man's alone:
you ignite a man's desire,
although his sight is finite,
to seek the Infinite.

His heart's more expansive than the sky!
So what if God's desires rule?
He doesn't ordain man's pain!

I am an Oriental infidel:
witness the fervor
of my heart's prayers,
of these blessings on my lips.

Love, my lyre!
Love, my song!
My every bone singing
"God is God!"

IV

You witness man's worth.
Your glory reflects his.
Your stone columns soar.
Your palms freshen Syrian sands.
Sinai's rooftops gleam.
Gabriel enobles the minaret.

Muslims can never despair
standing in the place of the Prophets,
their horizons infinite
as the Tigris, Danube and Nile surge through their veins.

Cup-bearers and stallion-riders,
warriors of Love
armored with swords of Love, crying:
"There is no god but God!"

V

You reveal man's destiny:
his days' ardor,
his nights' dissolution,
his submission to God's will.

So it is with believers:
a man prospers according to his deeds.

He is both clay and fire,
Divinely seared within
and free to inhabit both worlds,
whether small in ambition
or with immense purposes.

Pure-hearted whether in war or peace.

God's compass eternally revolves
around a man's faith
because this world is illusion
and the man of faith is reason's horizon,
Love's firstfruits,
The fire of the ingathering,
Heaven's passion.

Keywords/Tags: Allama Iqbal, translation, Urdu, Pakistan, Pakistani, love, rose, nightingale, garden, heart, beauty, diamond, coal, firefly, Cordoba, mosque, God, soul, wine, music, mrburdu
Dr Zik Apr 2020
Smoke suffocating, screams letting deaf
babies’, moms’ and, old ones are helpless

Blood spreads everywhere, from the bodies.
Stop lynching, and give up hatefulness

look at world from Warsak Road, O man
Palestine, Kabul, Iraq, leave them

spirit is one, dialect is not same
His devotee doesn't accept defeat

think in hurry, when you find, morn, eve
your slaughterhouse, tactics are useless

they will not be able to withstand
and will welcome as the Berlin wall
Dr Zik's Poetry
Book: Thirsty Words
Poet: Dr Zik
It is a translation of a poem written in Urdu, " JAZBAT" from the poetic book "Rah Takti Ankh  راہ تکتی آنکھ" of the poet Dr Zik.
16 دسمبر 2014 ء میں پشاور کے المناک واقعہ، اورمعصوم شہداء کی یاد میں
In remembrance of tragic event occurred by the cruel terrorist's attack in
Peshawar Pakistan since 2014. There were blood splashes, dead bodies of innocent children, sounds of crying persons everywhere in school in Peshawar on Warsak Road.
٭
جذبات
16 دسمبر 2014 ء میں پشاور کے المناک واقعہ، اورمعصوم شہداء کی یاد میں

متھے اَکھاں، بے حِس مُورَت، پتھر دل وِچکار۔۔
نفرت بھانبھڑ ورگی بھڑکے، لالچ دے بازار۔۔۔
اَگاں بھڑکن، دھویں اُٹھن، مچے چیخ چکار۔۔
بچے بِلکن، ماواں تڑپن، بُڈھے نے لاچار۔۔
ہر پاسے رَت ڈُلدی ویکھی، لاشاں دے وِچکار۔۔
من جا جنگلی، شہری دی گل، نفرت چھوڑ دے یار
وارسک روڈ توں پوری دنیا، ویکھ لے دنیا دار
فلسطین، عراق ہووئے یا ہووئے کابل کہار۔
لکھاں بولیاں بولدے تد وی اِکو جئے جذبات۔۔
اُس دے رستے چلن والے مندے نئیں اُو ہار۔۔

اَج کل چھیتی شام سویرے کر لے سوچ وچار
تیرے سارے حَربے، ناکے، مَقتل نے بیکار۔
ٹُٹ جاوَن گے جَھل نئیں سکدے عشق دی اِکو وار
منہ دی کھادی جیویں شوہدی برلن دی دیوار۔۔۔۔
۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔۔
شاعر: ڈاکٹر ظفر اقبال کھوکھر
کتاب: راہ تکتی آنکھ
dr_zik@yahoo.com
Gandy Lamb Feb 2019
Slaves exist only to be worked to death.
That is why all slaves are dead.
This is dedicated to all the Iqbals out there.
Dr Zik Feb 2015
A day is coming, we shall hear
There will no loss, no wound no tear
No wall between the hope, despair
No will confuse in fair, unfair
All clouds of threat and mist of fear
Will go to hell and disappear
It can be done if only you
Have some time with the morning dew
Dr Zik's Poetry

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