"anjuman" poems
Meri Zeest Pur Mussarat
Kabhi Thi, Naa Hai, Naa Hogi
Koi Behtarin Surat
Kabhi Thi, Naa Hai, Naa Hogi
Upon my existence, happiness
Never was, will not nor ever be
One perfect image
Never was, will not nor ever be
Mujhe Husn Ne Sataya
Mujhe Ishq Ne Mitaya
Kisi Aur Ki Ye Halat
Kabhi Thi, Naa Hai, Naa Hogi
Mein Yeh Jaante Huay Bhi
Teri Anjuman Mein Aaya
Ke Tujhe Meri Zarurat
Kabhi Thi, Naa Hai, Naa Hogi
Beauty has made me suffer
Love has caused me to fade
This state of any other
Never was, will not nor ever be
Knowing this
I came to your gathering
That for you, my need
Never was, will not nor ever be
Jo Gila Kiya Hai Tumse
Jo Samaj Ke Tumko Apna
Mujhe Gair Se Shikayat
Kabhi Thi, Naa Hai, Naa Hogi
Ye Karam Hai Doston Ka
Jo Woh Keh Rahe Hai Sab Se
Ke Naseer Par Inaayat
Kabhi Thi, Naa Hai, Naa Hogi
Those sorrows shared with you
Were with a belief that you are a part of me
Complaint to a stranger
Never was, will not nor ever be
This grace is from friends, who say to all
**That upon Naseer, favour*
Never was, will not nor ever be
✒ Translated by ℐamil Hussain , *Poet, Peer Naseer Uddin Naseer, Sung by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 2:16 PM UTC
I gave her a book of poems
for her birthday.
And an eraser.
Not that the graphite words
were exceptionally poignant
but I felt that a gift
with a little something
scribbled on it
would be a bit more personal
than one that’s unblemished.
Even though the letters were destined
to be as fleeting
as those on sand,
even though the waves were the gentle
graceful strokes of her fingers,
even though it was a sanitisation
that could have easily been avoided
had she chosen me
over him,
I wrote them.
Because I knew that like scars
the tiny indentations would stay
and her beautiful fingertips
would feel them
if she ever chose
to run them over the page
while thinking of me.
If she’s ever thinking of me.
So I wrote with a pencil
and didn’t flinch
when my affection was reduced to
little grey globs of synthetic rubber.
“For my dearest , Love Anjuman”
was all that I’d written, anyway.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 10:25 AM UTC
Songstress
by Michael R. Burch
for Nadia Anjuman
Within its starkwhite ribcage, how the heart
must flutter wildly, O, and always sing
against the pressing darkness: all it knows
until at last it feels the numbing sting
of death. Then life’s brief vision swiftly passes,
imposing night on one who clearly saw.
Death held your bright heart tightly, till its maw—
envenomed, fanged—could swallow, whole, your Awe.
And yet it was not death so much as you
who sealed your doom; you could not help but sing
and not be silenced. Here, behold your tomb’s
white alabaster cage: pale, wretched thing!
But you’ll not be imprisoned here, wise wren!
Your words soar free; rise, sing, fly, live again
Keywords/Tags: Nadia Anjuman, Afghanistan, Afghani poet, poetess, death, martyr, hero, heroine, voice, freedom, equality, justice
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 3:51 AM UTC