I  stood by the fence and watched my thoughts try to navigate,

the persistence of one realm had me investigate,

just how deep this mental addiction had taken root,

just how hard its has been to take a different route.

Have I solely existed as mind?

Have I failed to mine the resources of a different kind?

I conclude that I am stuck on an intellectual world,

one of less action and more words,

more philosophies that try to explain life,

the infinite search for more truths to the lies, more lies to the  truths:

the search for meaning- life’s meaning

like its something tat can be found without; like its something that is out there and cant be grasped

in the confines of self and thus  seek help

from avocation, from a religion, from a relationship…

Heck about to spasm,cant help but contend this thoughts, swinging left till I swing right,

but mind is supreme and you cant box with god, thus i return to where it all begun, secretly acknowledging the fact

“Man makes or breaks himself in the confines of his mind,”

I am slowly then baking, a balance of some sort, a balance of some kind

a perfect shrine, mind, body and soul

I hope you do too.

Translating emotional state
Takes some discipline and listening
From thoughts to words in place
Don't lose sight of actions in flight

Tame the beast before it feasts
Monkey brain reframed
As allowing a creature out of a cage
isn't necessarily the best way to participate
Elevated above this primate state

Contest shortness of breath in the chest
Slow feelings in controlled action
Pause for a rest and step left in turn
Observe the effects that reflect on you best
To check what you've left

Nida Fazli translations



Apni Marzi se
by Nida Fazli Shayari
translated by Mandakini Bhattacherya and Michael R. Burch

This journey was not of my making;
As the winds blow, I’m blown along ...
Time and dust are my ancient companions;
Who knows where I’m bound or belong?

Original Poem:

Apni Marzi se kahan apne safar ke hum hain,
Rukh hawaaon ka jidhar ka hai udhar ke hum hain.
Waqt ke saath mitti ka safar sadiyon se,
Kisko maaloom kahan ke hain kidhar ke hum hain.



Failures
by Nida Fazli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I was unable to relate
the state
of my heart to her,
while she failed to infer
the nuances
of my silences.



Every Day and in Every Direction
by Nida Fazli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Everywhere and in every direction we see innumerable people:
each man a victim of his own loneliness, reticence and silences.
From dawn to dusk men carry enormous burdens:
all preparing graves for their soon-to-be corpses.
Each day a man lives, the same day he dies.
Each new day requires the same old patience.
In every direction there are roads for him to roam,
but in every direction, men victimize men.
Every day a man dies many deaths only to resurrect from his ashes.
Each new day presents new challenges.
Life's destiny is not fixed, but a series of journeys:
thus, till his last breath, a man remains restless.



Couplets
by Nida Fazli
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It was my fate to entangle and sink myself
because I am a boat and my ocean lies within.
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You were impossible to forget once you were gone:
hell, I remembered you most when I tried to forget you!
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Don't squander these pearls:
such baubles may ornament sleepless nights!
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The world is like a deck of cards on a gambling table:
some of us are bound to loose while others cash in.
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

There is a proper protocol for everything in this world:
when visiting gardens never force butterflies to vacate their flowers!
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Since I lack the courage to commit suicide,
I have elected to bother people with my life a bit longer.
―Nida Fazli, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Keywords/Tags: Urdu, translation, translations, love, heart, state, life, death, destiny, fate, breath, mrburdu

That thin line is where
I want to be
Cut off between us two.
No matter how much we
change, this line will
always be.
Between motorized vehicles
the patter of shoes, old & new.
Spaced out between concrete plateaus and
painted highway lines.
The onlookers & passerbys
caught in the wind without second glance,
that thin line where I want to be
Can only be described as
Beside you.
Between the trees, beside the small lakes & birds
of your imagination,
That thin line where I end & you begin.
Our invisible bridge where my voice
tickles your ear & is miles long
That thin line that grasps your hand & mind.
No matter how much we change
this line will always be
& this line where we always meet

I looked at myself in the mirror,
Broke a glass,
And held it against my face

Instead of slicing into my skin
Like my mind so desperately desired,
I watched as
My eyes fluttered
And started a steady stream,
Which fell and accumulated
Into a pool at the bottom of the glass

When the stream ceased,
I pursed my lips to the jagged edge
To drink

The sharp glass
Smoothly sliced into my bottom lip
And just as the clear stream flowed into my mouth,
I started to bleed

The blood mixed with my tears,
I swallowed,
And as the salty liquid travelled down my throat,
I realized that I was tasting pain
In its physicality
And yet somehow,
I felt relief

There heated up
The sight,
A pit lures, drags, with thoughts
beautifully by elegance perverted,
The rain my own furnace,
That I make it do of it itself,
That I make it be then of myself.

I choose to dance without body
Yet to make steps in dark in negation,
Observation, a true rascal-ification,
In other words: notes of silence resounding.
Moment the floor,
Heartbeats for the feet.
Air-tight bubbles for the breath.

Minstrel of Utopias I’ll become,
Standing as Ellipsis I’ll be intact,
And I’ll see as the end shall come
Through tears burning from
Nothingness of clouds.

I choose to gleam in
Eyes of half-liddance
And what is done of their feverish?
Sweat’s going out from the fascinating,
The chest is being opened to feel
how hot is the cardiac muscle
And love is made to its battles,
In the dark of the Day,
As you wish,
Or in the lightness of the Night.

You don’t tell reason, the right,
There is sound in feather’s flight