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Michael R Burch Sep 2020
Urdu Poetry: English Translations



You will never comprehend me:
I pour out my feelings; you only read the words!
―original poet unknown, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Tears are colorless―thank God!―
otherwise my pillow might betray my heart.
―original poet unknown, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Near Sainthood
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Kanu V. Prajapati and Michael R. Burch

On the subject of mystic philosophy, Ghalib,
your words might have struck us as deeply profound ...
Hell, we might have pronounced you a saint,
if only we hadn't found
you drunk
as a skunk!

There are more English translations of poems by Mirza Ghalib later on this page.



Every Once in a While
by Amjad Islam Amjad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Every once in a while,
immersed in these muggy nights
when all earth’s voices seem to have fallen
into the bruised-purple silence of half-sleep,
I awaken from a wonderful dream
to see through the veil that drifts between us
that you too are companionless and wide awake.



First Rendezvous
by Amjad Islam Amjad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This story of the earth
is as old as the universe,
as old as the birth
of the first day and night.

This story of the sky
is included in the words we casually uttered,
you and I,
and yet it remains incomplete, till the end of sight.

This earth and all the scenes it contains
remain witnesses to the moment
when you first held my hand
as we watched the world unfolding, together.

This world
became the focus
for the first rendezvous
between us.



Impossible and Improbable Visions
by Amjad Islam Amjad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Eyes interpret visions,
rainbow auras waver;
similar scenes appear
different to individual eyes,
as innumerable oases
coexist in one desert
or a single thought acquires
countless shapes.



I Have to Find My Lost Star
by Amjad Islam Amjad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Searching the emptiest of skies
overflowing with innumerable stars,
I have to find the one
that belongs
to me.

...

Gazing at galaxies beyond galaxies,
all glorious with evolving wonder,
I ponder her name,
finding no sign to remember.

...

Lost things, they say,
are sometimes found
in the same accumulations of dust
where they once vanished.

I have to find the lost star
that belongs to me.



Last Night
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Last night, your memory stole into my heart―
as spring sweeps uninvited into barren gardens,
as morning breezes reinvigorate dormant deserts,
as a patient suddenly feels better, for no apparent reason ...

There are more English translations of poems by Faiz Ahmed Faiz later on this page.



Intimacy
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I held the Sun, Stars and Moon at a distance
till the time your hands touched mine.
Now I am not a feather to be easily detached:
instruct the hurricanes and tornados to observe their limits!

There are more English translations of poems by Rahat Indori later on this page.



Strange Currents
by Amir Khusrow
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

O Khusrow, the river of love
creates strange currents—
the one who would surface invariably drowns,
while the one who submerges, survives.

There are more English translations of poems by Amir Khusrow later on this page.



The Eager Traveler
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Even in the torture chamber, I was the lucky one;
when each lottery was over, unaccountably I had won.

And even the mightiest rivers found accessible refuge in me;
though I was called an arid desert, I turned out to be the sea.

And how sweetly I remember you—oh, my wild, delectable love!—
as the purest white blossoms bloom, on talented branches above.

And while I’m half-convinced that folks adore me in this town,
still, all the hands I kissed held knives and tried to shake me down.

You lost the battle, my coward friend, my craven enemy,
when, to victimize my lonely soul, you sent a despoiling army.

Lost in the wastelands of vast love, I was an eager traveler,
like a breeze in search of your fragrance, a vagabond explorer.

There are more English translations of poems by Ahmad Faraz later on this page.



The Condition of My Heart
by Munir Niazi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It is not necessary for anyone else to get excited:
The condition of my heart is not the condition of hers.
But were we to receive any sort of good news, Munir,
How spectacular compared to earth's mundane sunsets!

There are more English translations of poems by Munir Niazi later on this page.



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.



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?

There are more English translations of poems by Nida Fazli later on this page.



My Apologies, Sona
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My apologies, Sona,
if traversing my verse's terrain
in these torrential rains
inconvenienced you.

The monsoons are unseasonal here.

My poems' pitfalls are sometimes sodden.
Water often overflows these ditches.
If you stumble and fall here, you run the risk
of spraining an ankle.

My apologies, however,
if you were inconvenienced
because my dismal verse lacks light,
or because my threshold's stones
interfered as you passed.

I have often cracked toenails against them!

As for the streetlamp at the intersection,
it remains unlit ... endlessly indecisive.

If you were inconvenienced,
you have my heartfelt apologies!

There are more English translations of poems by Gulzar later on this page.



Come As You Are
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come as you are, forget appearances!
Is your hair untamable, your part uneven, your bodice unfastened? Never mind.
Come as you are, forget appearances!

Skip with quicksilver steps across the grass.
If your feet glisten with dew, if your anklets slip, if your beaded necklace slides off? Never mind.
Skip with quicksilver steps across the grass.

Do you see the clouds enveloping the sky?
Flocks of cranes erupt from the riverbank, fitful gusts ruffle the fields, anxious cattle tremble in their stalls.
Do you see the clouds enveloping the sky?

You loiter in vain over your toilet lamp; it flickers and dies in the wind.
Who will care that your eyelids have not been painted with lamp-black, when your pupils are darker than thunderstorms?
You loiter in vain over your toilet lamp; it flickers and dies in the wind.

Come as you are, forget appearances!
If the wreath lies unwoven, who cares? If the bracelet is unfastened, let it fall. The sky grows dark; it is late.
Come as you are, forget appearances!



Unfit Gifts
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

At sunrise, I cast my nets into the sea,
dredging up the strangest and most beautiful objects from the depths ...
some radiant like smiles, some glittering like tears, others flushed like brides’ cheeks.
When I returned, staggering under their weight, my love was relaxing in her garden, idly tearing leaves from flowers.
Hesitant, I placed all I had produced at her feet, silently awaiting her verdict.
She glanced down disdainfully, then pouted: "What are these bizarre things? I have no use for them!"
I bowed my head, humiliated, and thought:
"Truly, I did not contend for them; I did not purchase them in the marketplace; they are unfit gifts for her!"
That night I flung them, one by one, into the street, like refuse.
The next morning travelers came, picked them up and carted them off to exotic countries.



The Seashore Gathering
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

On the seashores of endless worlds, earth's children converge.
The infinite sky is motionless, the restless waters boisterous.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children gather to dance with joyous cries and pirouettes.
They build sand castles and play with hollow shells.
They weave boats out of withered leaves and laughingly float them out over the vast deep.
Earth's children play gaily on the seashores of endless worlds.
They do not know, yet, how to cast nets or swim.
Divers fish for pearls and merchants sail their ships, while earth's children skip, gather pebbles and scatter them again.
They are unaware of hidden treasures, nor do they know how to cast nets, yet.
The sea surges with laughter, smiling palely on the seashore.
Death-dealing waves sing the children meaningless songs, like a mother lullabying her baby's cradle.
The sea plays with the children, smiling palely on the seashore.
On the seashores of endless worlds earth's children meet.
Tempests roam pathless skies, ships lie wrecked in uncharted waters, death wanders abroad, and still the children play.
On the seashores of endless worlds there is a great gathering of earth's children.



This Dog
by Rabindranath Tagore
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Each morning this dog,
who has become quite attached to me,
sits silently at my feet
until, gently caressing his head,
I acknowledge his company.

This simple recognition gives my companion such joy
he shudders with sheer delight.

Among all languageless creatures
he alone has seen through man entire—
has seen beyond what is good or bad in him
to such a depth he can lay down his life
for the sake of love alone.

Now it is he who shows me the way
through this unfathomable world throbbing with life.

When I see his deep devotion,
his offer of his whole being,
I fail to comprehend ...

How, through sheer instinct,
has he discovered whatever it is that he knows?

With his anxious piteous looks
he cannot communicate his understanding
and yet somehow has succeeded in conveying to me
out of the entire creation
the true loveworthiness of man.



Being
by Momin Khan Momin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You are so close to me
that no one else ever can be.

NOTE: There is a legend that the great Urdu poet Mirza Ghalib offered all his diwan (poetry collections) in exchange for this one sher (couplet) by Momin Khan Momin. Does the couplet mean "be as close" or "be, at all"? Does it mean "You are with me in a way that no one else can ever be?" Or does it mean that no one else can ever exist as truly as one's true love? Or does this sher contain an infinite number of elusive meanings, like love itself?



Being (II)
by Momin Khan Momin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You alone are with me when I am alone.
You are beside me when I am beside myself.
You are as close to me as everyone else is afar.
You are so close to me that no one else ever can be.



Perhaps
by Momin Khan Momin
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The cohesiveness between us, you may remember or perhaps not.
Our solemn oaths of faithfulness, you may remember, or perhaps forgot.
If something happened that was not to your liking,
the shrinking away that produces silence, you may remember, or perhaps not.
Listen, the sagas of so many years, the promises you made amid time's onslaught,
which you now fail to mention, you may remember or perhaps not.
These new resentments, those often rehashed complaints,
these lighthearted and displeasing stories, you may remember, or perhaps forgot.
Some seasons ago we shared love and desire, we shared joy ...
That we once were dear friends, you may have perhaps forgot.
Now if we come together, by fate or by chance, to express old loyalties ...
Our every shared breath, all our sighs and regrets, you may remember, or perhaps not.



What Happened to Them?
by Nasir Kazmi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Those who came ashore, what happened to them?
Those who sailed away, what happened to them?

Those who were coming at dawn, when dawn never arrived ...
Those caravans en route, what happened to them?

Those I awaited each night on moonless paths,
Who were meant to light beacons, what happened to them?

Who are these strangers surrounding me now?
All my lost friends and allies, what happened to them?

Those who built these blazing buildings, what happened to them?
Those who were meant to uplift us, what happened to them?

NOTE: This poignant poem was written about the 1947 partition of India into two nations: India and Pakistan. I take the following poem to be about the aftermath of the division.



Climate Change
by Nasir Kazmi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The songs of our silenced lips are different.
The expressions of our regretful hearts are different.

In milder climes our grief was more tolerable,
But the burdens we bear now are different.

O, walkers of awareness's road, keep your watch!
The obstacles strewn on this stony path are different.

We neither fear separation, nor desire union;
The anxieties of my rebellious heart are different.

In the first leaf-fall only flowers fluttered from twigs;
This year the omens of autumn are different.

This world lacks the depth to understand my heartache;
Please endow me with melodies, for my cry is different!

One disconcerting glance bared my being;
Now in barren fields my visions are different.

No more troops, nor flags. Neither money, nor fame.
The marks of the monarchs on this land are different.

Men are not martyred for their beloveds these days.
The youths of my youth were so very different!



Nasir Kazmi Couplets

When I was a child learning to write
my first scribblings were your name.
―Nasir Kazmi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When my feet lost the path
where was your hand?
―Nasir Kazmi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Everything I found is yours;
everything I lost is also yours.
―Nasir Kazmi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Memory
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz, as performed by Iqbal Bano
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In the wastelands of solitude, my love,
the echoes of your voice quiver,
the mirages of your lips waver.

In the deserts of alienation,
out of the expanses of distance and isolation's debris
the fragrant jasmines and roses of your presence delicately blossom.

Now from somewhere nearby,
the warmth of your breath rises,
smoldering forth an exotic perfume―gently, languorously.

Now far-off, across the distant horizon,
drop by shimmering drop,
fall the glistening dews of your beguiling glances.

With such tenderness and affection—oh my love!—
your memory has touched my heart's cheek so that it now seems
the sun of separation has set; the night of blessed union has arrived.



Speak!
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Speak, if your lips are free.
Speak, if your tongue is still your own.
While your body is still upright,
Speak if your life is still your own.



Tonight
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Do not strike the melancholy chord tonight! Days smoldering
with pain in the end produce only listless ashes ...
and who the hell knows what the future may bring?
Last night’s long lost, tomorrow's horizon’s a wavering mirage.
And how can we know if we’ll see another dawn?
Life is nothing, unless together we make it ring!
Tonight we are love gods! Sing!

Do not strike the melancholy chord tonight!
Don’t harp constantly on human suffering!
Stop complaining; let Fate conduct her song!
Give no thought to the future, seize now, this precious thing!
Shed no more tears for temperate seasons departed!
All sighs of the brokenhearted soon weakly dissipate ... stop dithering!
Oh, do not strike the same flat chord again! Sing!



When Autumn Came
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

So it was that autumn came to flay the trees,
to strip them ****,
to rudely abase their slender dark bodies.

Fall fell in vengeance on the dying leaves,
flung them down to the floor of the forest
where anyone could trample them to mush
undeterred by their sighs of protest.

The birds that herald spring
were exiled from their songs—
the notes ripped from their sweet throats,
they plummeted to the earth below, undone
even before the hunter strung his bow.

Please, gods of May, have mercy!
Bless these disintegrating corpses
with the passion of your resurrection;
allow their veins to pulse with blood again.

Let at least one tree remain green.
Let one bird sing.



Last Night (II)
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Last night, your lost memory returned ...
as spring steals silently into barren gardens,
as cool breezes stir desert sands,
as an ailing man suddenly feels better, for no apparent reason ...

There are more English translations of poems by Faiz Ahmed Faiz later on this page.



Ghazal
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Not the blossomings of songs nor the adornments of music:
I am the voice of my own heart breaking.

You toy with your long, dark curls
while I remain captive to my dark, pensive thoughts.

We congratulate ourselves that we two are different
but this weakness has burdened us both with inchoate grief.

Now you are here, and I find myself bowing—
as if sadness is a blessing, and longing a sacrament.

I am a fragment of sound rebounding;
you are the walls impounding my echoes.



The Mistake
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

All your life, O Ghalib,
You kept repeating the same mistake:
Your face was *****
But you were obsessed with cleaning the mirror!



Inquiry
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The miracle of your absence
is that I found myself endlessly searching for you.



It's Only My Heart!
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It’s only my heart, not unfeeling stone,
so why be dismayed when it throbs with pain?
It was made to suffer ten thousand darts;
why let one more torment impede us?

There are more English translations of poems by Mirza Ghalib later on this page.



Couplets
by Jaun Elia
loose translations by Michael R. Burch

I am strange—so strange
that I self-destructed and don't regret it.
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The wound is deep—companions, friends—embrace me!
What, did you not even bother to stay?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My nature is so strange
that today I felt relieved when you didn't arrive.
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Night and day I awaited myself;
now you return me to myself.
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Greeting me this cordially,
have you so easily erased my memory?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your lips have provided thousands of answers;
so what is the point of complaining now?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Perhaps I haven't fallen in love with anyone,
but at least I convinced them!
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The city of mystics has become bizarre:
everyone is wary of majesty, have you heard?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Did you just say "Love is eternal"?
Is this the end of us?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You are drawing very close to me!
Have you decided to leave?
―Jaun Elia, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Intimacy
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I held the Sun, Stars and Moon at a distance
till the time your hands touched mine.
Now I am not a feather to be easily detached:
instruct the hurricanes and tornados to observe their limits!



The Mad Moon
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Stars have a habit of showing off,
but the mad moon sojourns in darkness.



Body Language
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your body’s figures are written in cursive!
How will I read you? Hand me the book!



Insatiable
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This mighty ocean, so deep and vast!
If it sates my thirst, how long can it last?



Honor
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Achievements may fade but the name remains strong;
walls may buckle but the roof stays on.
On a pile of corpses a child stands alone
and declares that his family still lives on!



Dust in the Wind
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

This is how I introduce myself to questioners:
Pick up a handful of dust, then blow ...



Dissembler
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

In your eyes this, in your heart that, on your lips something else?
If this is how you are, impress someone else!



Rumor (M)ill
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I heard rumors my health was bad; still
it was prying people who made me ill.



The Vortex
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I am the river whose rapids form a vortex;
You were wise to avoid my banks.



Homebound
by Rahat Indori
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

If people fear what they meet at every turn,
why do they ever leave the house?



Becoming One
by Amir Khusrow
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I have become you, as you have become me;
I am your body, you my Essence.
Now no one can ever say
that you are someone else,
or that I am anything less than your Presence!



I Am a Pagan
by Amir Khusrow
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I am a pagan disciple of love: I need no creeds.
My every vein has become taut, like a tuned wire.
I do not need the Brahman's girdle.
Leave my bedside, ignorant physician!
The only cure for love is the sight of the patient's beloved:
there is no other medicine he needs!
If our boat lacks a pilot, let there be none:
we have god in our midst: we do not fear the sea!
The people say Khusrow worships idols:
True! True! But he does not need other people's approval;
he does not need the world's.

(My translation above was informed by a translation of Dr. Hadi Hasan.)



Amir Khusrow’s elegy for his mother
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Wherever you shook the dust from your feet
is my relic of paradise!



Paradise
by Amir Khusrow
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

If there is an earthly paradise,
It's here! It's here! It's here!



Mystery
by Munir Niazi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

She was a mystery:
Her lips were parched ...
but her eyes were two unfathomable oceans.



I continued delaying ...
by Munir Niazi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I continued delaying ...
the words I should speak
the promises I should keep
the one I should dial
despite her cruel denial

I continued delaying ...
the shoulder I must offer
the hand I must proffer
the untraveled lanes
we may not see again

I continued delaying ...
long strolls through the seasons
for my own selfish reasons
the remembrances of lovers
to erase thoughts of others

I continued delaying ...
to save someone dear
from eternities unclear
to make her aware
of our reality here

I continued delaying ...



Couplets
by Mir Taqi Mir
loose translations by Michael R. Burch

Sharpen the barbs of every thorn, O lunatic desert!
Perhaps another hobbler, limping by on blistered feet, follows me!
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My life is a bubble,
this world an illusion.
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Selflessness has gotten me nowhere:
I neglected myself far too long.
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I know now that I know nothing,
and it only took me a lifetime to learn!
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Love's just beginning, so why do you whine?
Why not wait and watch how things unwind!
―Mir Taqi Mir, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Come!
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, let us construct night
over the monumental edifice of silence.
Come, let us clothe ourselves in the winding sheets of darkness,
where we'll ignite our bodies' incandescent wax.
As the midnight dew dances its delicate ballet,
let us not disclose the slightest whispers of our breath!
Lost in night's mists,
let us lie immersed in love's fragrance,
absorbing our bodies' musky aromas!
Let us rise like rustling spirits ...



Old Habits Die Hard
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The habit of breathing
is an odd tradition.
Why struggle so to keep on living?
The body shudders,
the eyes veil,
yet the feet somehow keep moving.
Why this journey, this restless, relentless flowing?
For how many weeks, months, years, centuries
shall we struggle to keep on living, keep on living?
Habits are such strange things, such hard things to break!



Inconclusive
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A body lies on a white bed—
dead, abandoned,
a forsaken corpse they forgot to bury.
They concluded its death was not their concern.
I hope they return and recognize me,
then bury me so I can breathe.



Wasted
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You have noticed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips ...
In whose imagination I have lost everything.



Countless
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I recounted the world's countless griefs
by recounting your image countless times.



Do Not Ask
by Faiz Ahmed Faiz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Do not ask, my love, for the love that we shared before:
You existed, I told myself, so existence shone.
For a moment the only light that I knew, alone,
was yours; worldly griefs remained dark, distant, afar.

Spring shone, as revealed in your face, but what did I know?
Beyond your bright eyes, what delights could the sad world hold?
Had I won you, cruel Fate would have ceded, no longer bold.
Yet all this was not to be, though I wished it so.

The world knows sorrows beyond love’s brief dreams betrayed,
and pleasures beyond all sweet, idle ideals of romance:
the dread dark spell of countless centuries and chance
is woven with silk and satin and gold brocade.

Bodies are sold everywhere for a pittance—it’s true!
Besmeared with dirt and bathed in bright oceans of blood,
Crawling from infested ovens, a gory cud.
My gaze returns to you: what else can I do?

Your beauty haunts me still, and will to the last.
But the world is burdened by sorrows beyond those of love,
By pleasures beyond romance.
So please do not demand a love that is over, and past.



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!



Hereafter
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.



Picnic
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My friends laugh elsewhere on the beach
while I sit here, alone, counting the waves,
writing and rewriting your name in the sand ...



Confession
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Your image overwhelmed my vision.
As the long nights passed, I became obsessed with your visage.
Then came the moment when I quietly placed my lips to your picture ...



Rain
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Why shiver alone in the rain, maiden?
Embrace the one in whose warming love your body and mind would be drenched!
There are no rains higher than the rains of Love,
after which the bright rainbows of separation will glow with the mysteries of hues.



My Body's Moods
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I long for the day when you'll be obsessed with me,
when, forgetting the world, you'll miss me with a passion
and stop complaining about my reticence!
Then I may forget all other transactions and liabilities
to realize my world in your arms,
letting my body's moods guide me.
In that moment beyond boundaries and limitations
as we defy the conventions of veil and turban,
let's try our luck and steal a taste of the forbidden fruit!



Moon
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

All of us passengers,
we share the same fate.
And yet I'm alone here on earth,
and she alone there in the sky!



Vanity
by Parveen Shakir
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

His world is so simple, so very different from mine.
So distinct—his dreams and desires.
He speaks rarely.
This morning he wrote: "I saw some lovely flowers and thought of you."
Ha! I know my aging face is no orchid ...
but how I wish I could believe whatever he says, however momentarily!



Come
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, even with anguish, even to torture my heart;
Come, even if only to abandon me to torment again.

Come, if not for our past commerce,
Then to faithfully fulfill the ancient barbaric rituals.

Who else can recite the reasons for our separation?
Come, despite your reluctance, to continue the litanies, the ceremony.

Respect, even if only a little, the depth of my love for you;
Come, someday, to offer me consolation as well.

Too long you have deprived me of the pathos of longing;
Come again, my love, if only to make me weep.

Till now, my heart still suffers some slight expectation;
So come, ***** out even the last flickering torch of hope!



I Cannot Remember
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I once was a poet too (you gave life to my words), but now I cannot remember
Since I have forgotten you (my love!), my art too I cannot remember

Yesterday consulting my heart, I learned
that your hair, lips, mouth, I cannot remember

In the city of the intellect insanity is silence
But now your sweet, spontaneous voice, its fluidity, I cannot remember

Once I was unfamiliar with wrecking ***** and ruins
But now the cultivation of gardens, I cannot remember

Now everyone shops at the store selling arrows and quivers
But neglects his own body, the client he cannot remember

Since time has brought me to a desert of such arid forgetfulness
Even your name may perish; I cannot remember

In this narrow state of being, lacking a country,
even the abandonment of my fellow countrymen, I cannot remember



The Infidel
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Ten thousand desires: each one worth dying for ...
So many fulfilled, and yet still I yearn for more!

Being in love, for me there was no difference between living and dying ...
and so I lived each dying breath watching you, my lovely Infidel, sighing                       afar.



Ghazal
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Life becomes even more complicated
when a man can’t think like a man ...

What irrationality makes me so dependent on her
that I rush off an hour early, then get annoyed when she's "late"?

My lover is so striking! She demands to be seen.
The mirror reflects only her image, yet still dazzles and confounds my eyes.

Love’s stings have left me the deep scar of happiness
while she hovers above me, illuminated.

She promised not to torment me, but only after I was mortally wounded.
How easily she “repents,” my lovely slayer!



Ghazal
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It’s time for the world to hear Ghalib again!
May these words and their shadows like doors remain open.

Tonight the watery mirror of stars appears
while night-blooming flowers gather where beauty rests.

She who knows my desire is speaking,
or at least her lips have recently moved me.

Why is grief the fundamental element of night
when blindness falls as the distant stars rise?

Tell me, how can I be happy, vast oceans from home
when mail from my beloved lies here, so recently opened?



Abstinence?
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Let me get drunk in the mosque,
Or show me the place where God abstains!



Step Carefully!
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Step carefully Ghalib―this world is merciless!
Here people will "adore" you to win your respect ... or your downfall.



Bleedings
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Love requires patience but lust is relentless;
what colors must my heart bleed before it expires?

There are more English translations of poems by Mirza Ghalib later on this page.



No Explanation! (I)
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Please don't ask me how deeply it hurt!
Her sun shone so bright, even the shadows were burning!



No Explanation! (II)
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Please don't ask me how it happened!
She didn't bind me, nor did I free myself.



Alone
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Why are you sad that she goes on alone, Faraz?
After all, you said yourself that she was unique!



Separation
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Faraz, if it were easy to be apart,
would Angels have to separate body from soul?



Time
by Ahmad Faraz
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

What if my face has more wrinkles than yours?
I am merely well-worn by Time!



Miraji Epigrams

I'm obsessed with this thought:
does God possess mercy?
―Miraji, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, see this dance, the immaculate dance of the devadasi!
―Miraji, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Excerpts from “Going, Going ...”
by Miraji
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Each unfolding vista,
each companion’s kindnesses,
every woman’s subtle sorceries,
everything that transiently lies within our power
quickly dissolves
and we are left with only a cupped flame, flickering ...
Should we call that “passion”?

The moon scrapes the horizon
and who can measure a star’s breadth?

The time allotted a life, if we calculate it,
is really only a fleeting breath ...



1.
Echoes of an ancient prophecy:
after my life has come and gone,
perhaps someone
hearing my voice drifting
on the breeze of some future spring
will chase after my songs
like dandelions.
—Miraji, translation by Michael R. Burch

2.
Echoes of an ancient prophecy:
after my life has come and gone,
perhaps someone
hearing my voice drifting
through some distant future spring
will pluck my songs
like dandelions.
—Miraji, translation by Michael R. Burch

3.
Echoes of an ancient prophecy:
when my life has come and gone,
and when I’m dead and done,
perhaps someone
hearing me sing
in a distant spring
will echo my songs
the whole world over.
—Miraji, translation by Michael R. Burch

If I understand things correctly, Miraji wrote the lines above after translating a verse by Sappho in which she said that her poems would be remembered in the future. I suspect both poets and both prophecies were correct!




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



Changing Seasons
by Noshi Gillani
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Each changing season
reveals something
concealed by her fears:
an escape route from this island
illuminated by her tears.



Dust
by Bahadur Shah Zafar or Muztar Khairabadi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Unable to light anyone's eye
or to comfort anyone's heart ...
I am nothing but a handful of dust.



Piercings
by Firaq Gorakhpuri
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

No one ever belonged to anyone else for a lifetime.
We cannot own another's soul.
The beauty we see and the love we feel are only illusions.
All my life I tried to save myself from the piercings of your eyes ...
But I failed and the daggers ripped right through me.



Salvation
Mohammad Ibrahim Zauq
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Anxious and fatigued, I consider the salvation of death ...
But if there is no peace in the grave,
where can I go to be saved?



Child of the Century
by Abdellatif Laâbi (a Moroccan poet)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I’m a child of this dreary century, a child who never grew up.
Doubts that ignited my tongue singed my wings.
I learned to walk, then I unlearned progress.
I grew weary of oases and camels infatuated with ruins.
My head inclined East only to occupy the middle of the road
as I awaited the insane caravans.



Nostalgia
by Abdulla Pashew (a Kurdish poet)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

How I desire the heavens!
Each solitary star lights the way to a tryst.

How I desire the sky!
Standing alone, remote, the sky is as vast as any ocean.

How I desire love's heavenly scent!
When each enticing blossom releases its essence.



Oblivion
by Al-Saddiq Al-Raddi (an African poet who writes in Arabic)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Discard your pen
before you start reading;
consider the ink,
how it encompasses bleeding.

Learn from the horizon
through eyes' narrowed slits
the limitations of vision
and hands' treacherous writs.

Do not blame me,
nor indeed anyone,
if you expire before
your reading is done.



In Medias Res
by Shaad Azimabadi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

When I heard the story of my life recounted,
I caught only the middle of the tale.
I remain unaware of the beginning or end.



Debt Relief
by Piyush Mishra
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

We save Sundays for our loved ones ...
all other days we slave to repay debts.



Reoccurrence
by Amrita Bharati (a Hindi poet)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

It was a woman's heart speaking,
that had been speaking for eons ...

It was a woman's heart silenced,
that had been silenced for centuries ...

And between them loomed a mountain
that a man or a rat gnawed at, even in times of amity ...
gnawing at the screaming voice,
at the silent tongue,
from the primeval day.



Don't Approach Me
by Arif Farhad
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Don't approach me here by the river of time
where I flop like a fish in a net!



Intoxicants
by Amrut Ghayal (a Gujarati poet)
translation by Kanu V. Prajapati and Michael R. Burch

O, my contrary mind!
You're such a fool, afraid to drink the fruit of the vine!
But show me anything universe-designed
that doesn't intoxicate, like wine.



I’m like a commodity being priced in the market-place:
every eye ogles me like a buyer’s.
—Majrooh Sultanpuri, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

If you insist, I’ll continue playing my songs,
forever piping the flute of my heart.
—Majrooh Sultanpuri, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The moon has risen once again, yet you are not here.
My heart is a blazing pyre; what do I do?
—Majrooh Sultanpuri, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Drunk on Love
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Drunk on love, I made her my God.
She quickly informed me that God belongs to no man!

Exiles
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Often we have heard of Adam's banishment from Eden,
but with far greater humiliation, I abandon your garden.

To Whom Shall I Complain?
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

To whom shall I complain when I am denied Good Fortune in acceptable measure?
Dementedly, I demanded Death, but was denied even that dubious pleasure!



Ghazal
by Mirza Ghalib
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You should have stayed a little longer;
you left all alone, so why not linger?

We’ll meet again, you said, some day similar to this one,
as if such days can ever recur, not vanish!

You left our house as the moon abandons night's skies,
as the evening light abandons its earlier surmise.

You hated me: a wife abnormally distant, unknown;
you left me before your children were grown.

Only fools ask why old Ghalib still clings to breath
when his fate is to live desiring death.



How strange has life become:
Our evenings drag out, yet our years keep flashing by!
―original poet unknown, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch



Longing
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Lord, I’ve grown tired of human assemblies!
I long to avoid conflict! My heart craves peace!
I desperately desire the silence of a small mountainside hut!



Life Advice
by Allama Iqbāl
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

This passive nature will not allow you to survive;
If you want to live, raise a storm!



Destiny
by Allama Iqbal
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Isn't it futile to complain about God's will,
When you are your own destiny?

Keywords/Tags: Urdu, translation, love poetry, desire, passion, longing, romance, romantic, God, heaven, mrburdu
Alaina Moore Oct 2020
The inconvenienced patron always arrived late. 
They always had a glass to fill, and not a minute to wait. 
Their emotions were like landmines, and their problems all your own. 
The inconvenienced patron was always picking a bone. 
They tell you how they were mistreated, how others are so unkind. 
Then rant and rave about how how if they’d had just been patient with them everything would be fine. 
The inconvenienced patron never seemed to give a second glance 
To the glazed over patrons not holding their breath 
For an ounce of positivity nor some selfless grace. No. 
The inconvenienced patron made them blue in the face.
A Deco Mar 2016
i hope you get into medical school
so all i have to do is eat an apple everyday

i hope you always have money to buy extra bread-sticks
but never the self control stop eating them

i hope your 15 seconds of fame falls on daylight savings

i hope you never avoid movie or tv spoilers  

i hope your children are loved and cared for
but have their hearts broken by mine

i hope you always anticipate a surprise birthday party

i hope you always wake well rested
3 hours late for work

i hope you dance in the metaphoric rain
and catch metaphoric pneumonia

i hope your next thanksgiving is spent in an airport

i hope you are mildly inconvenienced every morning

i hope all your book pages stick together

i hope that you always will question if you left your oven on

i hope your future roommates always use all the hot water

i hope you always find the words to say
but never the right time to say them

i hope you never figure out how to pick a ripe avocado

i hope all your dinners are directly impacted
by the fickle nature of a toaster oven

i hope your curiosity gets the better of you
and you find out what cat food tastes like

i hope your favorite band breaks up
and you miss their kick *** reunion tour

i hope you watch an unhealthy amount of daytime tv

i hope you outlive me on the off chance that your paper boy will miraculously skip your house on the day my obituary is printed
because nothing would make my ghost happier to know
that you were forced to find out after  literally everyone else that
i passed away in my sleep surrounded by people who loved me
while you sat in your house old grey never thinking of me until you
read some 50 words in a newspaper and even if its for a second i want you to wonder what kind of life i had because you will have had no part in it.
Anna Elguera May 2014
Selfishness is the most indicative sign of immaturity.
Like the way my little sister
couldn't be bothered
to regularly take our dog for walks
because it mattered only how much it inconvenienced her.

When your own feelings hold the up most importance
and everyone else is placed on this planet to play a role in your existence

kids are selfish
some adults are immature

Growing up has little to do with aging
rather, realizing that every living creature holds value;
Leaving the bulk of your ego behind.
This fact seemed pretty **** self-evident from just about birth on.
I seemed to inconvenience my family, especially my mother.
So with my multitudes of half-sisters
that refused to see me as anything more than just that,
half,
my mother, who was exhausted and
inconvenienced at the sight of me, my will and
my troubled path,
I was a real life Cinderella,
From     The      Start.

Since I was just there,
my mother figured she might as well use me,
to do her bidding.
I wouldn't be home for weeks and would arrive to an empty,
messy house and a two-page list
of things to do.
Sound familiar?
Just like a fairytale, huh?

So I ask, where's my fairy godmother,
and my glass slipper along with the Prince Charming,
to make sure it fits?
And my mouse helpers,
to make cakes and dresses with me?

Well I might not have a fairy godmother or a glass slipper,
and I'm still missing the **** mice,
but I just might have found,
My Prince...
<3
Michael R Burch May 2020
My Apologies, Sona
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My apologies, Sona,
if traversing my verse's terrain
in these torrential rains
inconvenienced you.

The monsoons are unseasonal here.

My poems' pitfalls are sometimes sodden.
Water often overflows these ditches.
If you stumble and fall here, you run the risk
of spraining an ankle.

My apologies, however,
if you were inconvenienced
because my dismal verse lacks light,
or because my threshold's stones
interfered as you passed.

I have often cracked toenails against them!

As for the streetlamp at the intersection,
it remains unlit ... endlessly indecisive.

If you were inconvenienced,
you have my heartfelt apologies!



Come!
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Come, let us construct night
over the monumental edifice of silence.
Come, let us clothe ourselves in the winding sheets of darkness,
where we'll ignite our bodies' incandescent wax.
As the midnight dew dances its delicate ballet,
let us not disclose the slightest whispers of our breath!
Lost in night's mists,
let us lie immersed in love's fragrance,
absorbing the musky aromas of our bodies!
Let us rise like rustling spirits ...



Old Habits Die Hard
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

The habit of breathing
is an odd tradition.
Why struggle so to keep on living?
The body shudders,
the eyes veil,
yet the feet somehow keep moving.
Why this journey, this restless, relentless flowing?
For how many weeks, months, years, centuries
shall we struggle to keep on living, keep on living?
Habits are such strange things, such hard things to break!



Inconclusive
by Gulzar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

A body lies on a white bed—
dead, abandoned,
a forsaken corpse they forgot to bury.
They concluded its death was not their concern.
I hope they return and recognize me,
then bury me so I can breathe.

Keywords/Tags: Gulzar, Urdu, Hindi, Punjabi, Triveni, translation, life, death, love, ghazal, couplet, mrburdu
Rae Nov 2016
Traffic jam on the highway
cars stopped
one hundred percent gridlock
heat waves off the asphalt

people rushing to see relatives
holiday weekend; a few hours till they see them
two hundred engines humming
flies buzzing

five hundred people waiting
wondering what they're waiting for
waiting for their wheels to turn
waiting for someone they've never seen before

their lives inconvenienced
by a traffic jam
******* up their holiday plans

when their cars finally move
and they see what made them stop
"oh dear, look at all those cops"
and an overturned tin can of a car

telling their kids to look elsewhere
shielding their eyes from the array
of a wrecked life
of a blue tarp on the highway

Their lives inconvenienced
by a traffic jam
******* up their holiday plans

but who is beneath
the blue tarp on the ground?
nobody even thinks
about what could be found

and what a disgrace
to simply be
an inconvenience
lying in the street

because humans are heartless
whether they are young or old
when their lives are inconvenienced
by a little girl's body gone cold

and for these reasons
i pray to never, ever say,
"i wish we could hurry through this traffic
because it's ******* up my holiday."
and that's when you know you're just like everyone else
Natures timepiece resets
mental alarm clocks and
washes away the hassles
of the daily grind.
Woken up by a well blended
mixture of clamor and quietude
with various birds chirping,
running water,
crackling embers,
wombats mating
and groans made by the
chemically inconvenienced
from a site nearby.
Insects fly overhead an
unorthodox patterns
as you unzip the door
of your mesh enclosure
and step out into the
inhospitable environment.
Pressed coffee to chase
the bacon and eggs
as you gourmandize
that over the fire,
cast iron skillet
morning breakfast.  
Commence to mysterious exploits
without one second of the day to waste
down heavily wooded trails
in search for introspection
and tranquility.
Uncultivated areas where
diligent stalwarts build dams,
antlers gallop through the
pulp and sapling
while woodland creatures,
whimsical and carefree,
play and sing songs
of the jovial jungle
until the birds of the wild
pounce upon their prey
as they become a tasting menu item
for the predatory aggressors
in the vicious circle
of nature's goodness.
Sun droplets peek
behind the seedlings
and you take a breath of fresh air
as you decrease depression
and obliterate anxiety.
Compass navigates
as you hike through
the rocky regions of the greenery
where you settle down to
eat your sandwich,
sip your thermos of soup,
wild berries for dessert
and wash it down with
a refreshing drink from
the natural flowing rivers
where ducklings defecate
and fish ****.
Perched up on a rock
in the highlands,
still on this quest for
self meditation,
you survey the terrain
and observe a family tipping
an overweighted, unbalanced
canoe on the river,
rambunctious ruffians
going white water rafting
in the vast rapids and
drink firewater with the natives
until they puke from overindulgence,
a lovely couple not in sync
with their oar rowing skills
on the lake,
children burn bugs
with magnifying glasses and
sneaking smores before
healthy campfire dinners arrive.
Day breaks into dusk and
dusk into night
with vivid colors and lucid dreams.
Scowling eyes peer through
the woodsy inhabitant
with curious and suspicious
idiosyncrasies as you trekked
through the wilderness
towards the bivouac
to start the nightly campfire,
submerge in repellent
and prepare your opulent hobo banquet. Twisting the cap off the first of twelve,
vital force fills to the brim
with reflection and clarity
of existentialism.
The birds have it good.
The wombats have it good.
The stalwarts have it good.
The antlers have it good.
The predatory aggressors have it good.
The families, the ruffians, that lovely couple, the children, even the burnt bugs have it good.
But you.....
you are like the woodland creatures,
you too play and sing songs,
twisting off cap after cap
until the Monday morning
manpower surfaces to the top,
like a volcanic eruption of plutonic rock
and the predatory aggressors
of labor force swoop down
and devour you without mercy
or an ounce of hesitation.
Under the silver moonlit night,
***** of fire burn brightly
in the purple hazed skies,
through the whistling treetops,
the forest ghouls dance like
demons and politicians
(essentially the same thing),
hallucinations of shadow people
appearing and disappearing
through the flames of the fire
stare wide eyed with painted faces.
Surrounded by a midden of empty bottles, you're wet brain slips
in and out of alcohol induced comas
and a beer blanket softly nestles you in
as you hold a lit cigarette in one hand
and half a bottle of Dutch milk
in the other like teddy bear,
your eyes fall into sedation....
Jolted awake like a thunderbolt,
eyes go from closed to open immediately
and chemically inconvenienced
state of being groans in
agonizing pains
just like the ones you heard
the morning before.
Megan Dec 2014
on this break i've designated one thing.
to steer clear of you,
to remove you from me:
my soul, my essence.
twenty one days
is the amount of time needed to break a habit.
this break is less than that
sitting at a fourteen
enough for me to sit the night before we return
chewing my fingernails on if you'll be there in the morning
if you'll be safe, healthy,
alive.
a lot can happen in fourteen days
and it's awful for me to sit and think.
so far i've done a very good job keeping you out of my thoughts.
out of my conversations.
the only time you've come up
was that a few days into this break
i saw you
and blast it
my whole body heat up like fire
i felt my skin get clammy and hot
i felt conflicting emotions.
but one thing stood clear:
i want to be done with you.
now.
i have no time
for this beating around the bush *******.
i'm sick an tired of crying over your bipolar personality
being a friend one and a foe the next
you even know that i feel for you.
i've dreamt to hold your hand
and lie beside you and watch the sky be born
and grow old,
fading into black to count the stars.
i've wished for you
on lost pennies, four 1's--two 11's on a clock,
on stars, on birthday candles, crossed fingers, christmas lists.
i've written countless poems
expressing all my anguish and excitement.
god you bring out the worst in me, but also the best.
i'm so patient with you, but jealous towards others.
i wish you knew what you did to me.
i wish you knew what you did to me over
the fact that i feel for you,
over petty feelings that i'm ready to be over of,
that i've wasted a year and a half on.
twenty one days breaks a habit.
fourteen isn't quite enough,
but i'll take it.
tonight is the first time i've actually thought about you.
and this poem of promise
speaking of freedom from feeling so awful all the time,
sounds lovely.
i'm sorry to have inconvenienced you
for a year and a half
over feelings i should of put out immediately.
but fire spreads rapidly, my dear.
and i have a low tolerance of heat.

|m.s.
charcoal smudges and
indistinct hazes of darkness
phrases laced in harshness harnessed
and armed with my conviction
addiction to truth even
when sharp enough to harm you
disarm you
dis-arm
dismember
sever limb
from limb
tongue from clever whim
from quipped retort
designed to thwart
off the largest offender
up wind down wind
I don't remember really the direction
from whence one came nor
name nor much anything
other than

charcoal smudges and
indistinct hazes of darkness
phrases laced in harshness harnessed
and armed with my conviction
addiction to truth even
when sharp enough to harm you
disarm you
dis-arm
dismember
sever limb
from limb
the smother hot tension seething
wriggling writhing ringing in my head
sirens throwing up red flags
at catch phrases
stated like razor blades
repeated like mantras
she said she said
he said they them,
my head
they said I was lonely
they said I was weak i think i thought
I believed
they loved me
someone told me
I wasn't worth a cent or sense
or that I had no sense
or that I was nonsense
all of it I think I thought all of it
I tense, became tense I tensed
over overwhelming disapproval
even at a distance
for my depreciating assets
the expense of my existence
my penance for loving myself
when it so inconvenienced
those I was living around
was letting myself
think I was worthless
forgetting
how to count
senseless
centless
arbitrary
I have digressed

I guess this is all jumbled concept
an attempt to recreate the conception
of my desecration
of the crumbling of my foundation
of the ashes left
when they, when she,when all of them
broke inside my head
to watch the walls burn
from the inside out
ashes
and charcoal smudges with
indistinct hazes of darkness
phrases laced in harshness harnessed
and armed with my conviction
addiction to truth even
when sharp enough to harm you
disarm you
dis-arm
dismember
sever limb from limb
sin from sin
self
from worth
you hurt me
they hurt me
I hurt myself
because I believed you
were telling me the truth.
I became dark

charcoal smudges and
indistinct hazes of darkness
phrases laced in harshness harnessed
and armed with my conviction
addiction to truth even
when sharp enough to harm you
disarm you
dis-arm
dismember
sever limb
from limb
kin from
kin
i'm gone now.
think of me as charcoal.
to be spoken aloud.
To concretize my theorized love,
I could play the accidental odds and strew
slippery tongues of spotted petals
onto thickly trafficked highways,
or use the best predictive modelling
to deduce when and where I can poke out
a well-heeled boot to trick unwary spills
and ****** a kiss from the unsuspecting
lips of any suitably compatible
passerby oft times inconvenienced and passed
on by.

These well-oiled and crudely experimental
methods do produce expected results,
but not the breakthrough nor the looked-for
satisfaction of appropriate reactions,
so I'll keep my dotted eyes tucked in
their pulpy stems and my shoddy toes curled back
while I beam my bits of invitation through
circuitous routes spatially arrayed along
parallel paths where one might search
with an extra-terrestrial inventiveness,
and wait.

I know the trials of these errant waves
won't add up to a guarantee
my burpy blips of a pulse can reach
the receptively comprehending and responsive
soils I seek, but it's the remoteness of a stead
to come stalking that appeals, and despite
the Hawking drone of unveiled warnings
I might regret such contact, I'll risk it all
on vaguely washed wishes this astronomical
anomaly with an alien sensibility has
one match.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
Atypnoc Jan 2015
Bio
Narcoleptic storyteller living the dream; it's a ******* nightmare.
Dark eclectic gory hell or giving up steam; watered luck is right there.
Appear today; drawn tomorrow
I could tell which words you borrow
Inconvenienced shades of gray
Eighty shades of sorrow weigh
today, which way to say,
I will stay here when you stray hear
they may play fear, bray they pay dear
Ever listen on to bold tomorrows.
Richard Riddle Apr 2015
There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; "**** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry.

It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating,  trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU."

The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you.
They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel.
You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,
                                              "All about YOU!"

copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
37 years as an accident investigator, have seen many of these. This piece was inspired by Jamie Burkes, "BOOM". Thanks, Jamie!
Alan McClure Nov 2015
Four feet by six feet,
good black soil
in a good back garden.
I stand, transfixed.
When I was six,
this plot was purgatory.
It could swallow
a sunny afternoon
without mercy.
It stretched, relentless,
an Amazon of weeds
with no beginning
and no end
and I would spend
hour after miserable hour
merely looking
at the horror ahead.
Punctuated here and there
with a desultory dig,
a scrape at the surface,
dock or dandelion
briefly inconvenienced
as the whole, howling,
heaving hoard
of grinning, gobbling green
grasped me, held me
in sticky-willie stasis,
a chickweed choke-hold
between buttercup buttresses.

Today it's tiny.
I could sweep it clean
with three good strokes
of the ***.

So I stand, at once
amused and wistful
lamenting not
the verdant self-pity
but wishing I was still
so easily convinced
of eternity.
Deisphorios Jan 2016
However,
There’s one more dilemma...
I love the quiet,
I welcome the dark,
For the same reason that I hate them both.

Because no one is around me,
No one is there to worry about me,
There are no voices whispering in my ear to grow up, get married, have kids, get a job.
I'm not ready for that yet.
And other voices, although caring, telling me to eat more, sleep more, never forget to take care of myself.
But I can't do that.
I must hold back on my mental issues to do what I must.
And eating and sleeping is no must in my book.
As long as I can make it through a day.
As long as I can get good grades.
As long as I’m not a disappointment.
I don’t need them.

In the dark, my imagination and anxiety take over my thoughts alarmingly quickly.
But at the same time,
I can hide here.
I am safe here.

No one has to see me,
I can do whatever I please.
And no one will judge me for it,
No one will be inconvenienced based on my actions.

You see, I never quite know what I want,
Trapped in a circle of light and dark.
Which one can I stay safe in?
Which one can I stay happy in?
Which one will tear me down first?
Which one could I tear down first?

All of these questions,
I have answers to.
However, I'll choose to ignore them,
Because I don't know which is better yet.
I cannot decide yet.

*Thus, the never ending cycle of internal conflict.
c ashrah
sorry mom i know you expected more
Richard Riddle Aug 2016
Because of recent fatal accidents that have occurred recently in the Dallas area, I felt it appropriate to repost this piece.

There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; "**** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry.

It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating,  trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU."

The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you.
They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel.
You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,
                                              "All about YOU!"

copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
Morgan Jul 2013
There is nothing convenient about answering a call to be flooded with a sea of tears & thoughts at four in the morning when you need to be up at seven or a collection of band tees cluttering your closet space.

There is nothing convenient about driving 100 miles an hour down the freeway in the middle of a shift or missing a lighter every time you go to smoke.

There is nothing convenient about standing in the rain until a fight is resolved or finding melted guitar picks all over your laundry.

A love that exists according to convenience
is not a love at all

You'll know the first time you decide to kiss his scars instead of your own because all of a sudden the pain radiating from his eyes hurts worse than the pain growing from your core.

You'll know the first time you find yourself spending countless hours caring for his friends because all of a sudden everyone who matters to him matters to you.

*You'll know the first time you decide that the sound of his voice & the scent of his skin are worth being inconvenienced for the rest of your life because the lack of either feel like the end of the world.
Burning Lilacs Nov 2017
It's feeding time.
Put your favorite food on the stove,
But don't you stand beside and stir while there's lots left to do:

Like drying your eyes with the light of meaningless information
Like running laps between choices to make, never quite reaching any
Like watching herds of dust cats growing in every corner
Like ignoring texts
Like drifting away
Like feeling dead
            or fearing you will be
            or wishing you were
Like covering your skin's imperfections with pure red
Like decorating walls with scratches for every time you've ever:
            inconvenienced someone slightly
            thought ill of anyone or anything
            made others worry
            failed to take care of yourself
            burned your food
Like...




Ding!
Now that you've taken your time with these routine steps, your meal should be ready.
You've done well. The charred bits serve as perfect fuel to the fire that consumes you.

The resulting smoke signals a message:
"You were right,
you truly are worthless.
Here's what's left,
only a few bites of what's unburnt.
You deserve nothing more"
A memory of my days spent living in a college dorm. I'm glad these times are over.
Rachel Doty Jul 2016
It would have been better if you had left me for dead in the woods,
no sun, no air, no water, no chance of survival,
and yet you choose to let me live like this,
in a state of madness that I can't control.
I should have seen it coming from the start
Our paths were destined to part,
yet I was a fool and believed the smile
you used to enchant me with.
I should've known it was all a cruel lie
it was in front of me the whole time,
all those memories that I cherished.
What goes up must come down.
Well, that explains a lot, considering that
many a few times I thought we were both on cloud nine.
We fell like a damaged airplane,
crashing and burning.
You told me you knew you would make a mistake.
I'd be surprised if you haven't already made it.
I went through hell and high water for you,
yet you would now be inconvenienced to give me
the time of day.
All our friends were convinced we would live in bliss;
be ninety years old sipping lemonade and watching our grandchildren
running on our lawn.
I thought they were right.
And yet, I see your face wherever I go.
Every distraction somehow fails.
Strangely though, the thing I am most angry about...
is the fact that you never came after me.
I miss the beating of your heart next to mine.
I miss dancing with you in the moonlight.
I miss you.
Richard Riddle Nov 2015
Because of recent fatal accidents that have occurred in the Dallas area, I felt it appropriate to repost this piece.*

Richard Riddle 11-06-2015

There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; "**** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry.

It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating,  trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU."

The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you.
They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel.
You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,
                                              "All about YOU!"

copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015
37 years as an accident investigator, have seen many of these. This piece was inspired by Jamie Burkes, "BOOM". Thanks, Jamie!
Graff1980 Jul 2020
Couldn’t be bothered to remove your knee
from a man’s neck.

Couldn’t be bothered to protect
the huddled masses of poor,
when you and your buddies can make more
from building machines and waging wars.

Couldn’t be bothered to tell our youth
the deep and painful truth
about our history.

Couldn’t be bothered until you were
inconvenienced;
Until your bosses see this
and you get in trouble
for vile rants.

Couldn’t be bothered to be
a decent human being,
and you wonder why
people cry,
let it burn.
Jack Jenkins Dec 2016
I stand in the field, like an old man who remembers his childhood fondly,
Squinting against the sun, breathing solemnly as bees buzz around me, inconvenienced at my presence.

Hunching my shoulders against the heat, yes the heat, I look down on the ground, seeing the bike left here so many years ago.
Like my love for you, I abandoned. Left on the ground, overgrown and eroded away. How I loved to whisk away on this two wheeled thing... how I loved carrying you through the threshold and into the bedroom.

You were my everything, at one point.
My rock and shelter, my love, my life.

But somehow we simply fell out of love, stagnated, and withered away, unnoticed to our numbed sensitivity to each other. Cast to the ground and left there, like my bike I stand and stare at right now...

They say you can never forget how to ride a bicycle.
I know I won't forget you, my love.
Written 29 March 2016
ace Nov 2014
i'd like to say i'm sorry
to everyone i've inconvenienced with my identity.
i'm sorry that it's such a struggle for you to say "he"
i'm sorry i'm not a dog so you can actually feel guilty
about misgendering me.
i didn't know that who i am is such a problem
that i cause you so much trouble
and i should take responsibility.
it's okay to pause and correct yourself
and maybe talk to me afterwards
but when you blow it up and complain
you make me want to scream.
for some reason you treat pets better
and i understand, i know
but i deserve a little more respect than something owned.
i'm sorry i inconvenience you with the way i dress
that i don't look enough like a boy for you to even try
i'm sorry that i don't wear basketball shorts and nike shirts
to convince you i have a *****.
but guess what?
i dont.
i'm a boy who wears pink with
"female parts"
because you are too scared to say "******".
do you ask random people to pull down their pants so you can validate them?
if we stick to gender norms
would you tell a girl to take her pants off
because they're not "ladylike"?
meanwhile you tell boys that it's okay to take girls' clothes off without asking.
you say you acknowledge my identity
yet you still tell me to take off my clothing because it's too "girly".
and when i say
"what's wrong with that?"
you spit back
"nothing, then why aren't you a girl?"
I don't need to be a girl to respect a human being
but that's how it generally is.
i'm 15 and i know more than most 60-year-olds
we should know better by now to at least treat people like people
because i am not a pet
i do not have a leash
you cannot dress me or neuter me
i can have whatever genitals i want
because you don't own me.
i am not a slave you had centuries ago and still make jokes about
i shouldn't have to apologize for that.
i'm not a wound you can heal
you can't just apply burn cream and a band-aid and forget about me.
don't treat me like a broken bone
like i need a splint
though i'm not okay on my own,
i don't need you to tell me who i should be.
glued to the seat by
mercurial dispositions,
forced conformist
with numb hands.

and in order;
to stop giving a ****
in order;
to put things in order.

through force from denial
we walk among death,
perusing theories taken
from whence time hath not
the slightest chance to have kept.

and left the living corpse
seated, inconvenienced,
fleeting within thoughts
to stay away.
Richard Riddle Sep 2015
Because of an upsurge in fatal accidents in the North Texas area, and elsewhere I'm sure, I believe it appropriate to repost this write.

There are many "you's" out there, on the highways, byways, freeways. Those that put others in harms way, excercising their egotistical need to be "first in line", "head of the class", so to speak; "**** the torpedoes, full speed ahead!" is their rallying cry.

It makes no difference what "YOU" are driving, old vehicle, new vehicle. Perhaps an overly powerful pickup truck, or an SUV, that makes YOU feel IMMORTAL. Ice, snow, rain, dark of night, makes no difference to YOU. Inconsiderate, rude, careless, makes YOU, dangerous. Today is no different, its "all about YOU." Speeding, weaving in and out of traffic, no need for signals, tail-gating,  trying to get that vehicle out of YOUR way, because YOU are being "INCONVENIENCED!" YOU, don't care! For this morning, like any other morning, "its all about YOU."

The lights are a bit glaring, as you begin to emerge from that state of unconsciousness, laying in that hospital bed, wondering where you are, who, and why, are those strangers standing around you.
They are the doctors, nurses, first responders, investigators, preparing for your reaction when you're told that the brains of your spouse and children had to be scraped off the pavement with a snow shovel.
You should be proud of yourself. For today is truly,
                                              "All about YOU!"

copyright: richard riddle April 03, 2015

37 years as an accident investigator, have seen many of these. This piece was inspired by Jamie Burkes, "BOOM". Thanks, Jamie!
Phoenix Dec 2016
I blame you
Even though you're not here

I can't think
Or focus
Or anything

And I blame you

I'm not mad
Just slightly inconvenienced
Because I'm trying to do my work
But you're invading my mind

I want to cuddle
And kiss you
And hug you
And tell you 'I love you'

But I can't

Because you're not here

Quite frankly
I don't understand
How you're such a distraction
When you're not even around

You're a simple distraction
That drives me insane
Bit by bit

I'm sitting here
Trying to do school work
Even though my tummy
Is dancing with a million butterflies
And my train of thought has derailed

I never thought this would happen
Not again
But there you are
And here I am
Completely intertwined

You have such an effect on me
And I don't think you even understand
How much of a distraction you really are

I wonder
Am I a simple distraction
To you?
Sav Dec 2020
I like it when people pat themselves down
to make sure they have
all of their belongings before they leave.

It's even better
when they mutter the words
out loud
to themselves.

Spectacles, Testicles, Wallet, and Watch.


I like it when people's faces light up
when they are waiting for a friend,
and finally spot them.

I like it when people get startled
and apologize for it.
Like their fear may have
inconvenienced you.

I like when people look around
and make eye contact with strangers
when the subway slows down
or stops unexpectedly.

I like it when a large group of people witness something strange,
so strange
that they are forced
to talk about it
with people they may never see again.

I like it when somebody drops something,
and a stranger chases after them to return it,
even if it's just a mitten.

I like it when someone asks for a light
from a stranger, and they get one.
Even better if the stranger
lights their smoke
for them.

I like it when people ask for directions,
and the person giving them
uses large hand gestures.

I like it when crossing guards
protect grown adults.

I like seeing a couple during their honey moon phase.
All over each other and a little bit
inappropriate.

I like ti when babies make eye contact with you
as they pass by on their parents back.

I Like when several people stop
to admire a cute dog.

I like it when pedestrians
are nearly hit by a careless driver,
and all stop to talk **** about them
for a moment.

I like it when people casually
sing, hum, or whistle.

I like it when several people
have to gather around a small device
because they all want to see what's happening
together.  

I like seeing children I don't know
trudging home
in the snow
with toboggans,
rosy cheeked
and daydreaming of hot chocolate.

I like catching someone taking a selfie.

I like it when people open their palms to check if it's raining,
even though they can probably see that it is.

I like seeing people reading on the train.

I don't know.

Human's can be cute.
I was inspired by a Tik Tok that was basically listing off things they liked about people. These are some of mine.
BriaroseWakes Jul 2019
Board the train, like anytime
Sit and watch the world go by

Today a car dodged a gate
Trusting to the whim of fate

Gamble taken, dice were thrown
An unknown person lost their life
Someone's family, husband, lover, wife...?

Off the train, a limbo crowd
Nowhere to go, elsewhere to be

All concerned with affairs their own
Inconvenienced, frustrated, and annoyed

Me?  Reflecting I climbed a tree, I think and mourn
I saw the paramedics walk away
Cycle, circle, ending chapter of a life

Today is just another day
I wish had gone a different way
Tale of the reality that followed writing Rise
Anais Vionet Jan 2022
Lisa and I got our emails the same day.
She read hers first. She made a small
sighing sound, the faintest of protests.
Then broke the news, with a scowl,
“They’re moving classes online “temporarily.”

I don’t want to talk about Corona any more
- I want to scream about it. Maybe we’ll
graduate, in three years, without knowing
what most of our classmates look like -
​​antithetical to university “networking”.

I’m lucky, I know - I’m only inconvenienced.
I roam, safely, indoors, impatiently untouched by
adult, real world concerns, like jobs and money.
So I’ll keep my head up and smile like those
glamorous, happy girls in ****** commercials.
ch#66 BLT word of the day “antithetical”
antithetical: the exact opposite
Kale Oct 2019
My heart weighs heavily
In my chest
I never loved
I never cared
That was until I met you.
You who showed me
That the smallest
Inconvenience
Can bring forth bowls of laughter.
Each memory of you
Stays intertwined with
My happiness
Now you’re gone
And I remain inconvenienced
Indira Zink Jun 2016
I have to work tomorrow
Why do I think so hard of you
It's almost 12 o'clock in the morning
Tomorrow I have things to do
You inconvenience me
Much like I inconvenienced you
When I left you one last kiss
To let you know that it was through
Leroy J Harris Apr 2014
Before John could answer,
Two dead snakes rose back to feet unaware of death's jurisdiction,
By all that is reasonable, this can't be happening,
They are immune to injury, impervious to damage.
Confidence wavered, his voice quavered,
As blue garments threaded gold as well,
Delicately removed twigs and leaves, taking great care,
To not appear inconvenienced in the slightest.
Were it not for my gift of silence upon these six loyal servants,
Your songs would surely crush them no contest, however as they now are,
No words can stop them, no matter how sweet or intentioned.
SleepEasy Jan 2021
As my heart plummets, I feel its weight
Oh my stomach... it's not what I ate
I'm in a trance, can you relate?
Give me a chance, let me reiterate

If I deigned to inform you, if I were to say
I'll die alone; would you then pray
Or would you be inconvenienced for a day?
Let me say it a different way

I walk in the dark, bruises and  bumps
Without any talk, my body jumps
As my heart pumps, I'm falling fast
Until the thump, which I feel last

— The End —