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O God!
by Qateel Shifai
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Torture my heart, O God!
If you so desire, leave me a madman, O God!

Have I asked for the moon and stars?
Enlighten my heart and give my eyes sight, O God!

We have all seen this disk called the sun,
Now give us a real dawn, O God!

Either relieve our pains here on this earth
Or make my heart granite, O God!

by Qateel Shifai
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Since we met and parted, how can we sleep hereafter?
Lost in each others' remembrance, must we not weep hereafter?

Deluges of our tears will keep us awake all night:
Our eyelashes strung with strands of pearls, hereafter!

Thoughts of our separation will sear our grieving hearts
Unless we immerse them in the cooling moonlight, hereafter!

If the storm also deceives us, crying Qateel!,
We will scuttle our boats near forsaken shores, hereafter.

Keywords/Tags: Urdu, translation, translations, God, heart, eyes, sight, madman, moon, stars, tears, pearls, mrburdu
Ikurah Aug 4
i don't why peoples
today like sugar-dusted lies
than a star-dusted truth
why so?
is that because those are
god's sacred candies,
you can't bribe on
your way to the sky
he will feed your bitter truths
who knows?
even he would be a scammer
turns into racist by this time
Undead Nomad Jul 4
something isn't nothing

I don't like it when people consider the minute nothing
I don't like it at all
something is wrong with that belief
to consider the small unimportant
the microscopic non-existent
a figment of pure imagination
a non sequitur of time
as if size itself is the only factor of what is...
dismissing reality is a fatal flaw
for when that insignificant nothing
infects you
replaces your meaningless parts with rot
turns your own body against you
discards the fabric of your meaningless existence thread by thread into the null--
when your state triggers the process of decay
slowly killing you--
while the residual effects trigger the mechanisms of the minds of those around you to start discarding your future--
while every memory becomes thinner
when you start fading
walking your own path to becoming emptiness
to become the thing you dismiss
to become dismissed
from reality
from life
but slowly enough
to realize you want to live
to have that thing you didn't believe...

you will beg for something
and receive true nothing
Mmm... My mind teeters between the meaning of life at the micro level and its effect on the macro.
Chloe May 26
The mad man sat in a tower
Wishing for power
Instead he was chained
And slowly went more and more insane
As he wished for revenge
Undead Nomad Dec 2019
Tonight I ponder purpose,
a reason for existance,
the force to my resistance,
and food for my superstitions.

What am I, a producer or consumer?
who am I, the savior or the ender?

I live to wonder why and how to compromise these feelings
deep inside this organic device.

Icll pay the price to my destiny lender
while waiting still for my untimely surrender but first a question to the future:

where is your expectation
under examination?
I need some inclination,
a simple indication,
perspiration of inspiration.

The sun could shine through
yet my space is always shaded.
I'll try to block my eyes
to the half that's always jaded;
make tribulations no longer be berated.

Someone give me the weight
I've waited to feel for so long
because my body aches
for a chance to grow strong.
Meh... I realize this one seems unfinished (it is) but I don't have anything else to add.
Undead Nomad Dec 2019
I make no more assertions the world,
as a whole, will ever adequately define its morality.
People fluctuate in their ideal
too much.
We often try to make them concrete
from a spectrum of principles.
We may even reach an agreement;
a certain stalemate to an issue.
Though I know there will always be
opposition, it is an unavoidable constant.
And so, in the end, every debate is
nothing more than a lasso to a cyclone.
"He's either a madman or a poet."

"Can't I be both?"

"You already are."
Late night conversations are weird yee yee
Brynn S Jan 2019
Circles of chalk mend thy breakage
Follow the whisper to know end
Propose a query that might find no answer
Choose to follow that path of the madman send
Silent they wake with their ears tipped slight
Shake the feathers off your shoulders
Wrap tight in hand the skeletal kite
Flight is not with a heavy heart;
But with those who choose to jump first
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