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almat011 Mar 2019
Me pulls to you ..... so strongly attracted to you
color of your skin so ****, ******, and very attractive and beautiful
In my opinion you are the most beautiful in the all universe space, measurement, worlds
My compliments, the truth, and no there is no flattery. In my opinion, this is how looks the most beautiful girl in the world. You are a very beautiful girl. You're a very **** girl. You are perfect. You are a masterpiece. You phenomenon of beauty that can not be repeated. So juicy, so exotic. It seems to me that you have an amazing beauty. You are the most beautiful in the universe all the dimensions of all worlds, you are a supreme being supreme creation, the crown of evolution. You're beautiful melody of love. You are so beautiful, just magic.
You to the point attractive ****. What you want to do countless times having ***.
I only dream if only one your kisses that blossom my soul. And from the touch of your hands on my body, and your lustful-touch for my private parts. I only dream to merge with you forever, body and soul, I only dream of an eternal, continuous *** only with you alone. I only know one thing, that I will forever love only you
Only at your most beautiful, stripped the body, you want to watch and view forever.

Every cell and molecule of my body and my soul is overwhelmed with love only for you. I long to be your beloved husband for all eternity and all lives, and even after death

Do you desire, you are perfect. Soup-navel **** genius. Do you like the sound of "the sound of a roaring engine ****** smart cars": VUM) VUM) vuuuuuuuuoooooooooooooooooooooooooommmmmm) You paradise, you're mens happinesse. Easy, clean, gentle, heavenly delight. You dream of a lifetime. You're pretty unrealistic. On even to the extent to which she can be beautiful, it's just unbelievable. You are the best gift of fate. Before your powerful ****** charm simply irresistible. You're the most beautiful girl in the whole universe. It's a great, great. You luxurious gem. This delicate pearl skin, you sample the true human beauty and femininity. All the other girls compared to you quite simply uy) uy) uy) uy) uy), believe me you are very vip **** girl. Most also come up on the throne of honor honored the goddess, the great pedestal. Majestic music sounds, so subtly and sensitively praising your beauty for you. In your arms a man feels in the higher realms of pleasure. **** regal lioness. Graceful affectionately snarling tigress. Puff) bang) bang) bang) bang) mega glue your beauty kills all competitors by felling. Amazingly beautiful. Sultry, cool and ****-Mego. You are elite, you're a lux, you extra class Your beauty captivates the hearts of men. The queen of all men, divinely beautiful, majestic lady. **** kitten. Mens ******* myself in the pants, with excitement at the sight of you. My heart you certainly won. Imagine that you are on the sandy planet, and every speck of gold pure gold, these grains of sand, the golden thoughts about you and only about you. You stunned, and I from you noodle. You just incredible girl, unbelievable. You're a *** symbol. You is Brand, (dreaming about you) cool, greattbl, superebl. You're like a beautiful peacock, revealing to the people the infinite perfection of their external and internal beauty. Words gently kiss and hug. The outline playful. Queen of ardent passion, so a bit awe velvet body. You idol of femininity and nature ... anywhere in the world to find such a beautiful sight as yours, which is just crazy, captivating with their enchantments of love, and you can not escape from the past and it is impossible to pass, look pierces the tenderness of their feelings.
you thermonuclear *** bomb you lux extra class.
Your passionate gaze iceberg melt. A look of love, perfect beauty. You are an incredibly beautiful girl, you're a mega-explosion of a nuclear bomb.  Boooooooooooooooooooommmmmmmmm), a brain explosion, demolition of all its rivals mega wave. Sweet, sweet as honey. You're sweeter than any candy. You have the talent to charm the guys for their beauty. Your beautiful image of a gentle heart overflows with love for you. Goddess of all men. You are the most gentle in the world. You are wonderful. You as a model in these photos. Original and stylish. Pretty number one in the world. You like to radiate special energy of love and pulling for you. With you all the time you want to be, always and forever. With no one way can not be as good as you. You are infinitely deep and beautiful as the universe itself. Because it is simply not possible. After all, you're stylish, cool, cool. As you have all that is in the ideal image of a woman. Fantastically beautiful. Moon Flower, gently shimmering in the sunlight. How beautiful are your eyes, like a mermaid I want to plunge back to see you sitting on his throne, beautiful creature mermaid her voice beckons you, only your arms, I shall find eternal rest. Awesome adhesive modest. I can not believe my own eyes, how beautiful you are.  you like cream with chocolate .... same tender .... sweet ...... "Your charm charms as analgesia. Do you use it perfectly. Beautiful eyes look like hypnosis. Such a nice warm look. Concealing in itself a treasure of delicate beauty. Infinite height. from that soars from the love of you soul. I like your figure beautiful nymph ... I conquered your soft intriguing, mysterious look ... marvelous sweet charm tempts and drags a.
You are my sweet dream.
I give myself to you forever.
Your loyalty and sincere love.
That's all I want.
You only one I ever want.
You are my love, my fondest wish.
Your photo makes me so *****
I wait from you of reciprocity and understanding.
My word is my tongue that gently caresses your skin and soul.
Gentle and sweet flesh of thy nothing in this universe is not.
Hot passion of your reality in this I do not find.
My words and my eyes tell you only one thing.
The best you never find.
In) during) during) during) during) during) during) during) during) during) Check it out, acclaimed, reviewed, look. Composed for you, about you, tenderly loving s) a) a). **** Barbie, Babe attractive, graceful lady, tender crumb, kitty) kitty) charming cat, sweet baby. One only your smile, this is a great victory and the men feat. Rather Go up to the throne of the goddess honored the great pedestal. Lyrical music sounds just as sensitively and subtly praising your infinite beauty for you. You're a real beauty icon. Designed for real mens, and gentlemen. Vuuuuuuuufffffffffff) tuff) tutuf) tutuf) speak very gently and quietly) tshshshshshshshsh) sounds quiet hypnotic music of love) I'm fascinated by your sensual, delicate charms, leads to you inexplicable wonderful attraction, about how beautiful your magic your charms so vague and so beautiful like brave a charming dope) of your charismatic charm my calls so subtly, subtly and clearly, so sensuously and easily, fervently and passionately, and so ****, ****, cute and appetizing, attractive, beauty, beckoning your temptation, seduction, you're tempting, seductive life you my call, just you alone all the time waiting and call about how much obsession, just the warmth of your feelings gently warms and the confluence of feelings showers my thy soul seizes you soft velvet and silk, you're hot sweet gentle sweetness) only happiness) happiness) and serenity) verily, thou great priceless personality, being at the mercy of your hot emotions and sweet emotion, want to be in them always and forever), I gain peace and paradise on earth, the gentle heat of your mouth, and the warmth of your tender eyes , takes in the wonderful world of your bliss, perfect minute clock, and second only to you, and I want to be just with you, because you have life, you're my only reality, you are my world and the whole universe, keep true allegiance to you, and I just

quietly and timidly say that the only one you love. Without you, life is impossible. You're perfect, you're Suite) glossy, glamorous cute Moore) Moore) Cutie) Ya) ya) dastish fantastish) perfecto) shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiik) You just mmmmmmmmmmm). This sweeeet) beautifuuuuuuuuul) well just aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh) pass out of love for you. Being with you is the continuous buzz, yummy relish) you so photo-film ****-genic photogenic, for movie movie-genic, urrrrrr). We humbly bow to your greatness, great, beautiful goddess, you are perfection. You cool muse, you're cool motif gives your beautiful image of a mega positive, you're a real Kulnev neo) neo) creative, "you're a real jackpot, juicy freshshshshshshsh)" you're the main leitmotif of this world, you're center of the world, a great Bagheera, the pearl of the world. Yes it's true because I think you only one I admire. The idol of all idols, the goddess of all goddesses. Take my word, because it's all true, and I sincerely hope that you give me at least not much pleased. Chorus: "You're **** Bugatti, Maserati best, fastest Ferrari, Pagani elegant. You stylish Bentley, luxury lambordizhni, royal Rolls Royce, wonderful noise voice, only for a cool boys ", voo tyzh) bad, whip. Your extraterrestrial beauty in a nutshell is this: "beautiful and saucily". And I long to see your gentle green light. abruptly, clearly, accurately, rarely smooth, sweet, stylish, strong, powerful, precise, transcripts, honorable. When you're near everything it is not important, so slow and so pointless. Great, great, grand girl yooo) Great, great, grand girl yooo) Great, great, grand girl yooo) ...... Yop) Thank you exist, let sit next to you, take my word for all this is not flattery, be your this is such a great honor, but this is a boon to any man, veeeest) Because you are the most cherished love and the dream of every man. Oooo) Olya-la-la **** figure in this world only you. All attention is focused only on you, everything pales in comparison around with you, and I want to be next only to you, but you pridnalezhat one. You are luxuriously best bust, sweet with sweet lips and mega **** predatory gaze from his amorous feelings rage, my wash only about you say, look what they do to me from the love of you are doing, your beautiful image on forever in itself charms shining, inspires, subordinates, intoxicating. **** goddess. Number one in the world. My low bow only to you) worship only you) Uffffffff) When you're around, getting hot, bright, nice, snip) snip) Vuoks) as a flamethrower let go the flame of his fine feelings, heart pounding more often you zhzhosh not for children, I want to see often, so sultry, beautiful, navel-soup finally, uhhhhhhhhhhh) love is so strong that even begins to hurt the heart. Luxury queen of all parties and catwalks, you unattainable pinnacle, all societies, beeeem) cupid shot of powerful magnum, oooo) complete demolition of all reason, can not hear anything except for you, and now can be seen, only you feel now just you and I I think that I was created just for you. Thank you, thank you, that drew on this as I am. For you, this is only for you, but it's all for you, all for you. I suffer, expect all the time I love you. You're the most desirable woman in the world. Epic, lyric, simpotichnaya) You're beautiful in everything in this world, only you're beautiful. You are endowed with charismatic energy inexplicably beautiful charm ... .ihi) ...... Mochi-mochi-mochi, manenko, manenko, manenko such mainka, mainka, krasotulechka, slyadkaya-slyadkaya girl Lapushka, adorable, cutie, baby, cute flower, candy, umnichka, bird, swallow, Rybonka, kitten, sun-golden-favorite-of-the-most-expensive, good-natured as fluffy hare .................. PSA) PSA) Oooh yeaaah) PSA-PSA) honor) worship, revere, and boundless respect, PSA-PSA) is the only real girl in this PSA, PSA world) you're the most epic, lyrical, lovely) PSA-PSA) you are best of the best, but you have no equal, PSA-PSA) you're the most endowed the title of the most beautiful in the history of mankind, PSA-PSA) you are the most important, the most glorious hero, the only one worthy of a goddess. PSA-PSA) is any place adorn, and instantly all the guys for their beauty by felling you fought, PSA, PSA) and all competitors envy into a deep depression makin PSA-PSA). Because you from herself beauty and eroticism idea tirelessly all its beauty and all are striking. Poetic, exotic, ****** lyrically. Living next to you harmony, grace, take my word, words can not convey, and I want to give you his heart. The sweetest voice only you, the skin so tender and pure, like a beautiful flower, on the face of my delight. So serene, so peaceful and quiet, static, nice and smooth, their places of origin is not in the universe, the soul like a light cloud in the sky hovering, always remembers you, you my love gives. The rays of your love life shines gently nurtures and warms, under your angel wings minds gradually falls asleep. A truly happy life does not happen without you. Next to you, my soul is in heaven remains, and only you, only one truly trusts. Your personality is loud, cool, beautiful, unique. Loud) loud) loud) You're a valuable copy of human beauty tadts-tadts-tadts) tadts-tat) tadts-tat) tadts-tat) uooo) uooo) uooo) tadts-tadts-tadts) tadts-tat) tadts-tat) tadts -tat) uooo) uooo) uooo) oooooo) you higher hooooootest bella mamasita, so moschnobl) with you all the time you want to be srochnobl) tochnobl) you're so cute, I love devotedly, furiously and fanatically. All zabyvaetsya around when you're around, captivated by your unique gentle gaze. Diamond beautiful, deep sapphire, stratsno rubirno, amazing emerald, pearl cute, I was very hooked, very surprised, so beautiful that a tear struck, and tenaciously for his soul took in your deep beautiful distance afield, was happily and easily, and suddenly the shower glittered and blossomed. One only makes your **** look and feel embarrassed blush. See how I want to enjoy it. It makes harder and harder to fall in love with you, I want to again and again appear near you, and never to say goodbye to you, and do not give up when you're around wants to smile with happiness, and you always stay on. Soft) soft) soft) How marvelous your gentle eyes, a beautiful shine, so deep beautiful color, hi) and the lips gifted hot, passionate force, like a sweet juicy berry, shine sweet tender crumb precious shine temptation, fantasy) romantic) ****** ) to you so goes the lipstick) gentle, spectacular pretty perfect) yes) so accurately) not lying, exactly) so refined, so perfect it all, only you, you can safely say all envious yeeeah) baa) baa) beeeee) each part of your body, is true, unattainable, infinitely ****, perfectly gospodstvennoe, divine perfection, which is the business card of your wonderful personality, a genuine sample of the sweet candy, delight, joy. You are an ideal model for the most famous, the channels, magazines, you have the sweetest voice in the world, so it is ideal in television and radio broadcast, a perfect icon of the media, the beautiful goddess of the VIP, I think so. And only love and honor. You are the most precious value in this universe. Heart and love is boundless open and so clean and perfect for you, all I say is not in vain, my love for you is a whole universe dedicated to you. You are beautiful in every way, so different, so special, your presence, gives a special feeling of harmony and peace, you are like a hot flaming fire of love and creation. Bright spark your feelings enliven, inspire. You are like a breath of life, fresh, cold water, your nature is so beautiful, so deep. Your acts as the earth itself give rise to life. You merry wind of freedom, infinitely great, free, you are giving hope and life, really need you like the air. Ooty) Ooty) Ooty) multi-billion-dollar celebrity babe, baby on triliard. I give you a well-deserved medals: for the record for the beauty of the world, a record for the entire beauty of the universe, the medal: in the beauty of a well-deserved
Author: Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
Graff1980 Jul 2015
You will never know
The peace of acceptance
Once you are finished
Put to earth
Life was harsher than the dirt
Parents made you feel worthless
Cause you wanted to wear a short dress
Because you felt different
Cut off
Disowned
Disavowed
One friend after another disappears
And no one hears
The sobs
No one feels the salty tears
No one holds your hands
Or offers you a hug

You were ******
By the those who demand
You conform
Where there was no  warmth
The clock cuts you bitterly
Condemning you to be lonely
And I cry all the more
Knowing you won’t be the only one
Not the only daughter wanting to be a son
Not the only male that wants to be female
Not the only soft face harden
Or hard face softened till the sorrow overflows
Till everyone you know closes the door
And you disappear forever more
I wrote this in December.
Poetry by MAN Mar 2014
Wake up Mi Amor..enjoy the Days to Come
Life isn't a sprint it's a marathon run
Hold yourself together through the good and bad
As we ride the roller coaster of happy and sad
Emotions like the weather here comes a storm
Take shelter in my heart I'll keep you warm
We can take a trip..don't worry about money
Lounging on the beach..I'll feed you when you're hungry
A picnic for two with a good bottle of wine
You can relax read a book as the day unwinds
Refills of morning affection overflows your cup
Clear your daze..Feel my gaze..Baby it's time to wake up..
M.A.N 3-25-14 Just a fun a way to wake up loved one..;)
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
Eleanor Sinclair Sep 2018
Here I am laying, filling my head
At 3 A.M rerunning every word I have said
I suppose my tears are the blood from my soul
Happy or sad it overflows out of me and I can’t seem to feel whole
I don’t want to die anymore because things aren’t too bad
But I’m tired constantly and I miss my mom and dad
That’s the thing about being an adult
You make the tough decisions yourself and if they’re wrong it’s your fault
You choose right from wrong and no one is there to tell you otherwise
No one is there to catch you in your lies or wipe the stream of tears from your eyes
Momma isn’t there to hold your hair when you *****
Daddy isn’t there to point to the sky at the comets
It’s more like a hollow and dark lonely place
Days feel like years yet weeks seem to race
I suppose we take for granted our youthful state
We don’t know what we have until it’s a little too late
I’d give anything to go back to a day before loans
Spend a day with my family before I wanted to become skin and bones
Give my brother a hug and tell him I care
Tell my father that the things he calls my mother are wrong and unfair
Play with my dog before the cancer took him away
Show up to work with enthusiasm as though it was my first day
See my town like I did through an adolescent lens
Bike through my neighborhood to the house that once was my friend’s
Run in the yard and climb that one crooked tree
Relive the trip to the forest that ended with bees
Laugh at myself when I fell off my bike
Not take myself so seriously and be willing to admit who’s right
Tell my sister “thank you” for yelling at me to not speak English
She kept me fluent and that was her wish
Go trick or treating from door to door
“Here’s some candy, would you like some more?”
My eyes fill with liquid nostalgia as they sparkle and close
My head bobs and nods as I catch it then doze
I miss the world before it got complex
Before I had to worry about what came next
I’d live for a day at the age of ten
Before things began to hurt and I was mistreated by men
I’d watch the stars with Jessica and talk about life
I’d give her a hug after a sleepover and get back on my bike
Pedaling home in the cool fall breeze
Everything was simpler back then and I took it for granted with ease
I wish to go back to a time almost half my life ago
I wake from my sleep to realize it can't be so
rage overflows the normal decent heart
breaking  the rule of ordinary mind
to take us right back to a sorry start

where we are governed by no common art
of ancient orders that were never kind
rage overflows the normal decent heart

once each has learnt that justice will depart
with no conclusion save the one designed
to take us right back to a sorry start

ensuring that  all of our limbs will smart
while we'll be stuck more deeply in the bind
rage overflows the normal decent heart

while all the  good and kindly fall apart
and the best choices have now been declined
to take us right back to a sorry start

where those who gather do not give a ****
for what should matter and the world seems blind
rage overflows the normal decent heart
to take us right back to a sorry start
Mr Xelle Feb 2014
When it's real then it's real not fake,
If you love me then love me cause I love you bae.
Your the only thing that's making me real
2 makes a couple so a set for me and a set for you so are we foreal?
And when we disagree it's not a diss
So agree is somewhere in this big deal.
Maybe it was a small deal,
How I tryed to change the subject and you bot the lies I was telling you.
See *** leaks but love overflows ,
I'm in your dreams but I can't get you out my mind though...
Ann M Johnson Aug 2014
I feel such Gratitude when I think of you
I feel so much it overflows
I want you to know how much I appreciate you
You are an inspiration and a muse to me
I have not met many of you face to face , but
No one else can take your place
I hold a special place in my heart for you
You are not just mere followers I consider each and every one of you my friends
We are bonded together as artists of the written word
In case you forgot I will tell you again
You are Awesome
You are special
You are a muse
You touch my heart with your poems, and because of all of you I am forever changed
You are amazing  in many ways
I just had to share my gratitude for each and every one of you
Yen Apr 2017
Manila,
Manila,
Your bustling streets vibrate with the rumbling of the jeepneys
and the hollers of the drivers as they say,
“Pasahero diyan, kasya pa, kasya pa!”; (Any passenger there, some seats are still free!)
Your nights twinkle with the Christmas lights
that surround every tree around the Meralco building
when September begins;
Your endless traffic jams keep McDonald’s and KFC alive
twenty-four by seven
where traffic enforcers dodge cars
and vans
trucks and tricycles
and jeepneys and bicycles
while dancing to the rhythm beating in their own ears
with a smile and a salute to all the drivers
from dawn to dusk;

The noise awakens the outskirts of your city
filled with people who never fails to smile
even when the storm pirouettes like a tempestuous ballerina,
where children watch the roads
transform into this ocean of black water
and small wooden boats become the means of transportation;
paddling in between houses
as the adults try to go to work;
where chickens waddling upon roofs
and cats chasing rats
become the best forms of entertainment

but Manila,
your lingering smell of cancer
comes with the dark blue starless sky
telling people to grip their bags until it merges with their bodies.
Manila, say good night
while they hold it tight
protecting it from the dark humid air
where thieves come out to
thumb down unscrutinised objects
from shallow pockets
by the flickering lamps
across the blazing red and emerald green lights


you see less
and less
and less
faces
as the Sun sinks and says good bye.

Stop
and try to tranquilise yourself.

Your city is now lead
by a blood-thirsty leader.
Apologies from gunshots overpower the cries of help from your people.
Manila,
ignore them
and sleep well.
Let the truth decay
while lives burn and vanish.
Prayers cannot save your mutinous ignominy.

Halcyon days are over
but

Manila,
you are still a beautiful city.
Your resilient people
overflows with hospitable hearts.
Their faces plastered with big smiles
as they welcome us for you
and say, “Mabuhay!” (Long live!)
proud and mighty.
Offering their minds on banana leaf plates to everyone who visits,
Giving away their hearts in small loot bags to everyone who leaves,

The Pearl of the Orient Seas
was my hood.

Manila,
despite your lack of snow
and intense weather swings,
You are
and will always be
my home.
logan misseldine Nov 2014
Even plastic collects dust
Bright fibres of pink become dull magentas
From the countless years and endless days of Still life Sharp lines and smooth contours of artistically machined plastic toys become fuzzy as hazy dust
Piles
Heaps
And overflows
From one
Single
Fact
Inactivity?
Unappreciated worth?
Discontent?
Laziness?
No
None of these
The dust collects
Piles
Heaps
Even overflows
From USELESSNESS
The things that the dust is attracted to
That the dust clings to
Are the things that in comparison to the things that are imparitive to our existance and our health
Are useless
Are plastic
Senor Negativo Jul 2012
Candlestick lit,
predatory form divorced
Daybreak take your feet
Assault me with rough dissonant hands
Take from me your bright request
Down in the valley curtains part
The thin plane light overflows
Without light-seeking caresses in the clear sky
Bold accommodations of the sunbursts
To Save

Appalachia
The displeased living hear of me
With Vivomantic symbols
After blackened nights begin
Fornicating on your birthday
Off his downswing that has passed...

"How the call it is unfulfilled
your mind, thoroughly healed
Terrestrial white feathers
And tame plains lament
Yet less tame after
His darkness heals you".

That summer day when the rain shaded shallow
And as dull walls divorce the Bejeweled earth.
You don the nakedness of supernatural awakendness
Painted by these symbols Aiseralam spoke...

Appalachia
The displeased living hear of me
With Vivomantic symbols
After blackened nights begin
Fornicating on your birthday
Off his downswing that has passed...

Candlestick lit,
predatory form divorced
Daybreak take your feet
Assault me with rough dissonant hands
Take from me your bright request
Down in the valley curtains part
The thin plane light overflows
Without light-seeking caresses in the clear sky
Bold accommodations of the sunbursts
To Save
In response to the challenge of The Darkness.
1967 san francisco is transformed into city of missing children haight ashbury brims with scraggly orphans thousands sit on street curbs live in cars hang out on floors of shops roam streets parks sleep on sidewalks unthinkable social cultural phenomenon Odysseus embraces madness walking through different neighborhoods going without food sleep in golden gate park floral smells so strong he can taste flowers kids openly pass joints acid doses trip dance make music laugh Odysseus is risk-taker but he is not street smart along with flocks of totally wasted kids street hustlers abound Odysseus sets down backpack beside eucalyptus tree rests when he wakes backpack is gone he is penniless disconnected hitchhikes across bay to berkeley less congested more manageable meets some runaways like him but not like him they squatter in abandoned house off telegraph avenue maybe 20 hippies crashing in house Odysseus adopts enormous closet hidden in back bedroom as his space has small window feels like sanctuary sometimes he comes home finds 5 or 6 kids sleeping in closet in a way people in house become his family tribe some of people are suspicious especially older secretive man with 2 tongue-tied underage girls whom he claims are his daughters Odysseus suspects veiled ****** exploitation girls are lovely yet behave frightened repressed life on street does not come easy telegraph avenue overflows with lost souls searching to hook-up fragrance of frankincense drifts amidst music drug deals rip-offs bullying brawls hierarchy from hell’s angels down Odysseus stays high dances sometimes panhandles “i live in commune with 2 pregnant girls” whatever cash he collects scores acid **** subsists on diet of gum candy sunflower pumpkin seeds sometimes ketchup with french fries his acne crescendos he learns if he drops acid daily by third or fourth day he cannot get off no matter how much he doses tries peyote cactus buttons after waiting nearly hour to get off he suffers stomachache dizziness projectile vomits finally flies into freaky hallucinations he swallows mescaline capsules feels sick to his stomach forgets about his nausea trips for 9 hours tries psilocybin mushrooms laughing straight through night experiments with stp trips for 3 days Bobby Stern and Martha Quigley come out from chicago to visit they are curious about the scene need to hook up Odysseus introduces them to his friends shows them telegraph avenue he turns and they have vanished he does not know where they have gone everybody is losing everybody new kids show up everyday oakland **** named red rat kidnaps Martha is heiress from distinguished chicago family their disappearance makes chicago papers after week Bobby and Martha manage to escape they never reveal to Odysseus what red rat did to them radio plays doors’ “light my fire” and jimi hendrix’s "purple haze" Odysseus has crush on beautiful blonde Patty she  ran off for summer from her parent’s home in sunset section of san francisco Odysseus and Patty hang out go see country joe and fish in provo park on sundays hitchhike into city watch Jefferson Airplane play for free in golden gate park hitchhike to marin see Grateful Dead jam at muir beach dude hands out free acid Odysseus is total acidhead acid reveals everything in new intensified light *** on acid is beyond *** wilder than *** more primal *** so intense it transcends limits of eroticism acid helps Odysseus realize his true self his pain sadness tears lies crazy-*** side first tingling tremors in stomach chest hands then initial flashes of sparkle traces of color echoes of giggling laughter lucid thoughts sometimes he swallows such large doses all he can do is stare out at white light what is it about massive hits of acid? measure of how fierce his spirit? self-punishment? escapism? he wonders why he so desperately needs to escape from what whom? himself? Mom’s numerous efforts to convince him he is mentally disturbed? Dad’s fists? escape from real world to where? Odysseus hangs with Pluto skinny 16 year old ****-addict golden wavy hair rotting teeth finesse with girls Pluto claims crystal **** enhances *** more than acid needles frighten Odysseus he lets one of Pluto’s girls hit him up with methamphetamine feels sudden overwhelming rush through head body forgets about needle before it ever leaves his arm having been initiated Odysseus begins scoring with Pluto’s girls Pluto knows tons of girls Odysseus loves feeling numb free being out of control not giving a **** getting ****** ****** by pretty girl if he could have his way he would go from ****** to ****** with pretty girl all day every day deep in drug induced state because drugs lower inhibitions allow them to explore some sick disgusting stuff that is paradise for Odysseus he is rapidly slipping into street life drug addiction wakes up with ants crawling in his hair witnesses numerous fights freak-outs 2 different kids o.d. while he is present lots of creepy stuff  by early august realizes he might wind up dead soon or rotting like Pluto Odysseus has spirit but troubled by what he sees troubled enough to return home go back to school he feels lost desperate alone not thinking plots drug deal swindle double-crosses some people guilt and shame for conning people haunts him for years he gives Pluto half the money tells him to share with Patty with his cut buys ticket back to chicago Penelope is first to greet him she gives him big hug comments “you need a shower and shave real bad!” his hair is wild scraggly beard Odysseus holds on to her he has missed his little sister glad to be near her feels panicky his parents will punish him Mom and Dad are relieved but agitated their worry and shame at his flight have turned to anger resentment they rationalize he selfishly ran off merrymaking for 3 months they sternly make plans for his next semester while Odysseus was away in california Penelope has ****** ******* for first time in back seat of Jed Zurbeck's black pontiac Penelope in secret goes to see doctor for pregnancy test doctor recognizes Penelope’s last name calls house Odysseus answers phone doctor asks to speak with Mr. or Mrs. Schwartzpilgrim Mom picks up phone doctor informs her Penelope is pregnant all hell breaks loose doctor makes house call with Mom and Dad present offers 2 options for Penelope “you can be picked up by limousine on state street and blindfolded you will be taken to an undisclosed location where abortion procedure is performed then re-blindfolded and returned by limousine to state street or you can report incident as **** and get signatures of three physicians then have abortion in a hospital” Mom and Dad choose to report it as a **** fabricate story about Penelope walking home from school and being grabbed pulled into alley by black man who rapes her Penelope is made to tell lie three times deeply disturbs her after abortion is done in hospital Dad makes Penelope swear not to admit abortion to anyone insists she tell Jed Zurbeck she made up stupid lie and she was never really pregnant Penelope obeys and tells no one
EPILOGUE:

When wisdom fills the old calabash,

It overflows and seeps in

The sun dries it to be stronger

That way it lasts with experience

So was the calabash of Atanga’s Granpa

On his very dying bed

He called Atanga to his bed

And had his last stream flow to him

GRANDPA:

My dear Atanga,

Please in the name all great Atangas

This is my last advice to you

If you wish to take a wife

Never choose either of these:

The woman with light skin

The woman with dark skin

The woman who is short

And the woman who is tall


ATANGA:
Ei! Grandpa!

Then tell me not to marry

Who then do you want me to marry?

Not the fair

Nor the dark

Not the short

Nor the tall?


GRANDPA:

Listen my boy

To words of old

The light skinned woman

Is the fantasy of all

If you choose her

None will help you prosper

Every man wants you to fail

So they can quickly take your place

So never dream of the fair woman

No matter how much you crave for her


ATANGA:

Oh! I see

I think I do understand

Grandpa what about the rest?


GRANDPA:

Never go in for dark skinned woman

She is the one that all your people loathe

She is the one whose people hate you

The only people interested are you and her

When disaster strikes, none will hear

So never go in for the dark skinned woman


ATANGA:

Oh! I see

Now I know

It is not the colour

Nor the character

A woman like that

Would do me harm

Now let us go on

Explain the rest


GRANDPA:

Never go in for the short woman

A short woman is the neighbour’s daughter

Her house is so close to your house

You can never have a moment of peace

Whatever you do

Her people poke their noses

You can never have your lives to live


ATANGA:
Grandpa is wise

So what about the last?


GRANPA:

The tall woman

Is the woman who comes from afar

Her home-town is far

So you can’t have peace

Any time there is trouble in her home

You need to pay

To get your people to go with you

Amidst the feeding

And transportation

How can you proper?


ATANGA:

Granpa is wise

Grandpa has lived

Who would have thought

Of these wise sayings

To an infant where thoughts are concerned?

Thank you Grandpa

So which type of woman

Must I marry?

Grandpa?

Grandpa?

I am asking you a question!

Grandpa!!!!

Grandpa please answer!!!!


MMA:

Grandpa is gone

To the land of beyond

Where sorrow is nil

And thinking is unreal

Just be glad you sipped from his calabash

Of wisdom before he left

PROLOGUE:

And that ended

Grandpa’s advice

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014
ShowYouLove Sep 2015
A look at life through a child's eyes
Is pure and honest; without disguise
A life of joy and wonder and grace
And here we are: running in place

The miracle of a rainbow, the beauty of a blade of grass
Finding untold treasure where others see only trash
Listen. Here the thrum of wind on golden strings
The bells sounding clear and pure in the trees they sing

A look at life through a child's eyes
Is pure and honest; without disguise
A life of joy and wonder and grace
And here we are: running in place

Feel the complex dance around you come alive as you are filled
With a racing spirit and feet that won't be stilled
A song bursts forth just like the morning sun
And overflows and covers you until you and it are one

A look at life through a child's eyes
Is pure and honest; without disguise
A life of joy and wonder and grace
And here we are: running in place

We lose sight of what's important as we fight to survive
But if we stop to look through a child's eyes we learn to truly thrive

A look at life through a child's eyes
Is pure and honest; without disguise
A life of joy and wonder and grace
But here we are: running in place

A life of joy and wonder greets the sun in morning sky
A life of joy and wonder will run free and learn to fly
A life of joy and wonder finds gladness in the rain
A life of joy and wonder finds healing amidst the pain

A look at life through a child's eyes
Is pure and honest; without disguise
A life of joy and wonder and grace
But here we are running in place

A look at life through a child's eyes
Is pure and honest; without disguise
A child's eyes are bright and strong; they don't dull or dim
You might hear their quiet song if you stop and listen

There is a life of joy and wonder and grace
But here we are running in place
A life of joy and wonder takes patience, love, and care
It takes a long time, many years till we get there

But a life of joy and wonder is a precious thing I'm told...

Because a life of joy and wonder far surpasses the value of gold!
Skypath Sep 2014
There’s something in my chest
Growing, swelling
A disease manifesting in my heart
It latches to my nerves and infects my brain
It’s love

It overflows from my heart
Oozing through my ribs like a thick river
Of butterflies and tired words
Remembered laughs and the sound of your voice

But lately it’s a symphony of voices
A theatre full of musicians playing my heartstrings
You’re a musician baby, and so are they

I’m sick
Infected with too much love for too many people
It’s a heart transplant
But they don’t take my old heart out first
Just add more and more until they spill from my ribs
Filling every corner of me until I crack

But baby I love it
Don't get me wrong, this is supposed to be a happy poem
Morgan Mercury Aug 2013
You told me you wanted to die
on the mountainside on the 28th of July.
The same day your mother died.
Chased by your sins shouting melodies that are carved on skin.
The kingdom has fallen and you were loved in the best ways possible by the people you wanted, but now the river overflows all the dreams you once held close to you dearly.
And now here you stand reading the letter that she wrote.

"Keep alive and live past my grave. Grow flowers in the darkest places and bring light into your lungs and breathe the air that smells so sweet. Believe there is a place beyond the hollow ground and believe we'll meet up there one day again, but please do not make that day anytime soon. Climb the trees that the past has planted here and swim to the other edge, always be on the other side. Don't worry if you trip over your own feet. Don't fiddle with the cuts you marked but kiss them each day until they're there no more. Follow the path that leads to the river and watch how it flows gracefully over sharp rocks to make them smooth enough to hold. Early in the morning awake with joy because the sun shines for you and the birds sing for only you to hear. Do this for me, my lion heart."

And you kept that letter in your pocket every day and held the crisp paper in your hands pretending it was hers.
wichitarick Sep 2018
RIVERS MAKES ME QUIVER

Youthful mind left wandering just feeling the wetness from yards into the curbs

Ripples running curbside over toes, forming those first streams for a meandering mind

Clouds collecting power,mists collecting,forming Drop by drop rains flowing into their reserves  

High mountain lakes reflecting their passion, partitioned by beavers to make their own pond

  Broken into brooks flowing faster downward into streams,cool and clear their taste like sweet liqueurs

Beauty not confined to a torrent but gifted with greenery and wildlife ,flowers that make the forests more confident

Trickles forming into cascades downward making outpourings & overflows waterfalls forced through the fissures

Gravity needs spaces we watch as it heightens then widens,making it's way through the continent quickly becoming most prominent

Admire her beauty but reap her rewards,wet bounty to feed the fields, food for fishes ,generations receive her treasures

Canoeists,kayakers or legendary steamboat captains are fond of their flowing, boys wondering where she will go ,knowing our tears of joy will flow to the sea should be our greatest compliment. R.C.
Nice memories from time spent on or in some favorite rivers,but also how great a part they play in our lives and the geography . Thanks for reading ,your thoughts are helpful. Rick
Samantha Feb 2013
The garden overflows with memories
And secrets that fly with the wind in the trees
The warmth of the sun, reminds me of the one
Whose name floats in the breeze

And suddenly, a rain drop, then a few more
I look into the sky where the eagles soar
The weather has changed now, I discover with a frown
And it bothers me down to my core

The garden should be a happy place to be
Not somewhere that, because of rain, you can hardly see
And so, just like that, I got up from where I sat
And started to make my way to the sea

To my absolute horror, I discovered it was raining there, too
Oh what on earth could I do?
To escape from this rain, that's causing so much pain
And making me feel terribly blue

Or perhaps it's not the rain at all
Not the way it splashes my face when it falls
Maybe it's him, whose face is so dim
Who has given me so much burden to haul

I trudge back to the garden, now quite sad
And perhaps even a little mad
I sit down and I cry, though I'm not sure why
But I slowly realize I'm glad

It has stopped raining for the day
The rain must go on its way
But my face is still wet, and I can easily bet
I will not as quickly be ok

Memories resurface, but there's a particularly special one
It consists of him, a flower, and the sun
He gives me the flower, and holds me for an hour
Before finally having to run

That was the last I saw of him, and it made my heart sore
That was the last I saw of him before he went to war
And the letter I received the next year, created so many tears
That I fell down just inside my door

My special one had been killed, just like that
And all they could find of him was his hat
The hat I bought for him, just on a whim
How could I ever forget that?

And now in the garden full of memories
And wonderful secrets and fascinating stories
I remember my love, as to my shoulder flutters a dove
And then, just as quickly, escapes into the breeze.
Sofia Paderes Jun 2015
We’ve been walking on this journey for years now, and I’ve held your hand long enough to know that when I slip into quicksand or miss a step, it is not you who lets go. Your fingers aren’t the ones coated in doubt or in selfishness, gripping firmly only when it feels right, when it feels necessary. Your hands are not made of brittle bone, shivering and breaking when the cold starts to show. Teach me to never let go.

We’ve known plenty of good weather. Safe landings. Skies full of stars and days of endless wind. Scraped knees were never a problem, we always seemed to be in fields of yellow and green, surrounded by miles and miles of running streams. There were times when I would purposefully stumble, thinking that it would be okay, I’d land elbows first in the faces of dandelions anyway. Other times I’d stray, not because of greener grass, but because I was too caught up smelling that single flower to see that you were calling me to the next meadow, where petals of a sweeter smell and prettier colors stretch out like a seascape. Teach me to give up my little treasures and desires, for yours are far better.

Sometimes I get a little adventurous. I tell you I want mountains. I tell you I want to climb, that I want the strain and the adrenaline rush, the thrill of letting pieces of hardened sand and pebble carry my whole weight, the challenge, the sweat, the blood. I tell you I want to see things from the eyes of God. I tell you I want to struggle and overcome. I tell you I want the soul of a deer, to plant my feet firmly on the narrow heights, I tell you I’m alright but when I’m actually in the process of the climb, in the process of the waiting, wondering which rock do I grasp next, which path do I trust with my steps, I tell you I’m not ready for mountains after all. But you did not bring me here to watch me fall, so teach me. Teach me to keep my ankles strong, and my hold on you stronger.

And when we tire of mountains, you take me to oceans. You know how much I love the saltwater mysteries, how my heart sings when I get to feel clumps of wet sand beneath the soles of my feet. And you know how much I don’t know about the waters, you know that it’s hard for me to tell when an undercurrent comes sweeping like thousands of tiny *****, that I can’t spot the difference between high tide and low tide until the waves are lapping at my door, that I still swim after jellyfish no matter how many times I’ve been stung, and how I forget that not every beautiful thing has beautiful intentions, and especially how oceans also terrify the breath out of me. One of my deepest fears is to die drowning, but still you row us out in a weathered boat into the middle of the sea, no life vests or whistles, nothing. We’ve had calm waters and dolphin mornings, we’ve had rough rowing and storms brewing, and each time you managed to put the thundering and rumbling in my chest to rest, and each and every time you’ve gotten us back to shore. But honestly, there are days I want to jump ship, sail my own boat, find my own sea, and some days I do. Those days I lose my way, those days I’m half drowned, but I turn around and find you there. Teach me to trust the one whose voice the waves and wind know.

Now here we are in a different kind of sea, the kind without water. This pit is abundant in ***** yellow devils, illusions and false promises, but all I have are questions and weary feet. Why are we here? Where are we going? Why did we leave? How am I going to shake off this mirage? When is it going to rain? After all we've been through, this is where you're taking me?

My path is an endless circle, a cycle using my sight, my heart, my feelings, my stocked up wisdom to judge my situation and I come to the conclusion that you have deserted me. But you haven't. And I don't understand how you stuck with me through hills and valleys, and never once thought of leaving, but you haven't. Your shadow is cast on me and peace overflows. Maybe I've been asking the wrong questions. Maybe instead of asking you where the stretch of sand ends, I should be asking you to teach me.

Teach me to love you in every season, whether it be the harshest of winters or the wildest of heats. Teach me to understand that deserts make me thirst for water, that I need to be lost so that I may be found, that without a battle there is no victory, that seeds die before they grow into trees. But before anything else, teach me to let the sound of your voice to be what guides me through winding paths and roaring winds, not which road looks smooth or which sky looks dim.

We've been walking on this journey for years now, and I've held your hand long enough to know that all this time you have been teaching me to fall in love with my eyes closed.
A spoken word poem written for Sali Production's benefit concert for Resources for the Blind, Mata, last month in Ortigas Park.

Also, I can't think of a title. Help.
The Truth Apr 2014
My heart skips a beat every time you're around;
I get cold chills at your voice's sound;
You keep me wide awake;
My love for you overflows a lake;
You always make me feel happy;
With you, I'll never feel ******;
I have never questioned why
you are one heck of a guy;
You are the best friend ever;
For you, I confess, are very clever;
We are totally meant to be;
You make me feel like me;
I'm Juliet, and you're my Romeo;
My heart will always belong to you;
Every time I see you, I smile,
and it'll be there for a long while;
Many say love will never overcome,
but that's not true for some;  
We may cause a fight or two,
but our never-ending love will always conquer through;
Our love is completely and honestly true;
Once again and forever, I'll say, "I love you"
Laura Jane Apr 2015
I am with you
here in this place
scanning with cool
and radiant eyes
Causing silver haired women
to pantomime
The Thing Thats Wrong With Us:
their heads shake
and their thumbs waggle in the air
like worms.

Our thumbs irk them,
patience wearing
thin as their lips.
They are so sad for us,
for our murderous stupidity.
They know
what is wrong:

because our empty carcasses
litter their living rooms
the busses they ride
the classes they teach
slumped
in the seats where we left them.

Heidegger said
that attention creates access to the world,
And we've crept away to the edge
dangling our attentions over the inviting precipice
like the sorcerer's apprentice
unsure
of how it all takes place
but certain
of it’s awesome power.
The well overflows
and we are swept away
as the women look on
LIKE a huge Python, winding round and round  
The rugged trunk, indented deep with scars,  
Up to its very summit near the stars,  
A creeper climbs, in whose embraces bound  
No other tree could live. But gallantly        
The giant wears the scarf, and flowers are hung  
In crimson clusters all the boughs among,  
Whereon all day are gathered bird and bee;  
And oft at nights the garden overflows  
With one sweet song that seems to have no close,          
Sung darkling from our tree, while men repose.  

When first my casement is wide open thrown  
At dawn, my eyes delighted on it rest;  
Sometimes, and most in winter,—on its crest  
A gray baboon sits statue-like alone        
Watching the sunrise; while on lower boughs  
His puny offspring leap about and play;  
And far and near kokilas hail the day;  
And to their pastures wend our sleepy cows;  
And in the shadow, on the broad tank cast          
By that **** tree, so beautiful and vast,  
The water-lilies spring, like snow enmassed.  

But not because of its magnificence  
Dear is the Casuarina to my soul:  
Beneath it we have played; though years may roll,        
O sweet companions, loved with love intense,  
For your sakes, shall the tree be ever dear.  
Blent with your images, it shall arise  
In memory, till the hot tears blind mine eyes!  
What is that dirge-like murmur that I hear        
Like the sea breaking on a shingle-beach?  
It is the tree’s lament, an eerie speech,  
That haply to the unknown land may reach.  

Unknown, yet well-known to the eye of faith!  
Ah, I have heard that wail far, far away        
In distant lands, by many a sheltered bay,  
When slumbered in his cave the water-wraith  
And the waves gently kissed the classic shore  
Of France or Italy, beneath the moon,  
When earth lay trancèd in a dreamless swoon:      
And every time the music rose,—before  
Mine inner vision rose a form sublime,  
Thy form, O Tree, as in my happy prime  
I saw thee, in my own loved native clime.  

Therefore I fain would consecrate a lay        
Unto thy honor, Tree, beloved of those  
Who now in blessed sleep for aye repose,—  
Dearer than life to me, alas, were they!  
Mayst thou be numbered when my days are done  
With deathless trees—like those in Borrowdale,        
Under whose awful branches lingered pale  
“Fear, trembling Hope, and Death, the skeleton,  
And Time the shadow;” and though weak the verse  
That would thy beauty fain, oh, fain rehearse,  
May Love defend thee from Oblivion’s curse.
Tyler Smiley Sep 2018
I haven’t weighed myself in weeks. I have this incessant itch inside of me longing to know what numbers I ring up to be. But everyday I hear another gnawing voice say,
“You are not a number, you are a person. A number does not define you. What defines you is your kindness, your efforts, the way you live your life.”

But what happens when the way I’ve been living my life for the past year and a half has been nothing BUT numbers and scales and nutrition labels and dysmorphia. What happens when my efforts have only been reduced to reducing myself? What happens when kindness overflows towards others, but I cannot even look in the mirror and say “I love you.” What happens when you are completely consumed by something that refuses to let you consume?
-Does the tunnel end soon?
Eli Grove Oct 2012
My hooded head casts a shadow
across the overflowing ashtray.
My exhaled smoke is silhouetted on the
handcrafted clay.
In the shape of an oyster,
painted with the colors of
rebellious 21st century youth:
Red. Gold. Green.
With a flare of "originality."
Breeze, light, cold
escorts winter across my
aged face and I see all that my life is:
Tar. Work. Tar. Tar. Sleep.
Work. Tar. Eat. Work. Tar.
Tar. Work. Eat. Work.
Drink coffee.
Tar.
Sleep.
Die.
Is this equation what I am
reduced to?
Simple formula, obsessive compulsive
DREAM.
The exponents of my life,
variables and names:
Tar. to the power of X.
Tar. to the power of M.
But exponents and powers
mean little to drowning men.
Can a man suffocate on
his own routine?
Can a man fashion a noose
from the fibers of his
"adult life?"
Look, Ma!
I'm all growed-up.
I have murdered adventure
and the youth that lives
inside it.
I snapped one too many thin branches,
fell through the thin ice,
and now I am addicted to solid ground.
I will stand on the banks,
watching the children
ice-skate around my ashtray
that overflows with
every "yesterday" and
half-smoked "this one time"
that comprise my
former life.
I am a grown-up now.
Nalini Oct 2014
Illusions of permanence are cutting the very
Depth of this mind while it
Overflows with thoughts and
Never-ending clouds bring
'
Tears to remind how
Knowledge is the whirlwind while
Not-knowing is the silent center; still the
Ongoing winds keep tearing down every
Withered leaf from the tree of my heart.
October 23, 2014

Another one of those late-night poems. Of the kind that don't let go until they're written down on paper, but the moment they're out there, a serenity overtakes your whole being...
Fill my glass
  of vintage
    pleasures,
  top it til the
bubbly overflows,
   as memoirs
    & recollections
    effervesce
     beyond lucid
         drunkenness,
   hungover midst
       an endless
         toasting of
            intoxicated
               sensibilities
Cheers, have a great weekend!
The flowers that bloom in sun and shade
  And glitter in the dew,
    The flowers must fade.
The birds that build their nest and sing
  When lovely spring is new,
    Must soon take wing.

The sun that rises in his strength
  To wake and warm the world,
    Must set at length.
The sea that overflows the shore
  With billows frothed and curled,
    Must ebb once more.

All come and go, all wax and wane,
  O Lord, save only Thou
    Who dost remain
The Same to all eternity.
  All things which fail us now
    We trust to Thee.
Nyah Oct 2015
A cake I wont forget
Bought you without regret
Regretting not even my own breath
Everyone's favorite, red velvet

Mesmerized by your taste
Eating you without haste
Scrumptious in every aspect
Why are you so perfect

Every bite I make, happiness overflows
But doubting, "why sadness follows?"
Midway until the very last bite
A love of my life notice you in sight

As she walks towards you
Grabs you and there's nothing I can do
Oh red velvet, you're worth every dime
Everyone's favorite, until next time
daniel f Sep 2013
All manner of people can be found in train stations, there character betrayed by attire to the more observational at least. The hard pressed city worker, walking ever walking, phone at hand, ever scanning emails and ensuring accessibility always, to control is too maintain is too succeed. Those who's steps seemingly shorter and more though out, are either here on some grand tour or some exotic soire as if silently noting surroundings, as the pass beneath the ornate decorations of their location. There care free folly the main indicator of intentions.From time to time a transport police officer shall pass, stern faced, seemingly compelled by some unknown mission others stand stationary a deterrent to would be criminals. From time to time the most beautiful facet of humanity is likely to appear, in the adoring stares of young lovers. It's this or the hold and don't let go grip, young lovers and train stations have long associated (In my mind at least) the point of departure is a grey area. Where displays of public affection normally reserved for movies and poems, reach the realm of social acceptability. Long deep kisses and well thought out speeches describing the grievances of an ever bleeding heart. There is one group I have failed to mention, who in there own way are entirely distinct from any of groups fore mentioned. They are the watchers, found normally at some quite looking coffee shop across the street, however this is not to imply they can not be any of the above. All of the above mix intermittently with interesting results, I shall for as long as I live never forget the passionate embrace of an on duty police officer and his wife. His eyes bright with surprise, at ease staring upon the one he so adores. I leave the station and head toward the embankment,
All manner of people pass me on their way to unknown offices, some holding hands and staring deeply. The rumble of unseen locomotive reassures me now of course I'm drawing closer, the winter winds once faint now felt as the once green leaves now all manner of colour are pulled by unseen gusts. This city must surely be the greatest in the world, from the industrial chimneys distant to the rolling ocean. Dockers smoke cigarettes and exchange raucous  tales whilst foreign sailors stare intently. I always try my hardest to listen to as much as I could manage of these half spoken speeches.  Im rewarded instantly with an image far more detailed and planned than anything the most creative minds could conceive. The wild waves create orators, there thoughts distilled be evenings spent alone. I've always found myself drawn to transient people, I feel like I've spend forever dreaming of someplace else Greenland Egypt Canada, you name the place and I've seen it in my dreams at least. It took me a while longer than I care to admit to truly get a feel for the place, at first like some timid child I avoided it. From the age of thirteen I've been locked in a battle with wanderlust, my urge to leave it all is simply overwhelming. In all my darkest fantasies, I leave this place at some point on some old ocean liner to arrive at unknown port. Too share a meal with mountain air as my ashtray overflows. I warm myself with images of ancient explorers sailing distant oceans, guided by starlight. Some people just elude me. I'd call myself stubborn but certain people melt me, I the eternal romantic a victim of my own high hopes. I'd often find myself alone, staring across the river and wondering. I always sit upon the same old bench carved with all manner of messages declarations of undying love, names, dates all carved into immortality. The steady movement of approaching footsteps is eternal, beyond the customs house  solitary North Star shines, as if admiring its provincial estate. An unknown entity now serving as a subtle voice of reason in the darkness, occasionally couples pass, as if to cement my my longing. The starlight illuminates breaking waves, as boats sway easy ******* to subtle quayside. Ever reminded of my obligations I should really leave and go to sleep. However the pull of the darkness is tangible, that was something! oh something! Suddenly a gentle calm smothers all thought, as lights glimmer distant. Light! Oh  brother light, I the eternal castaway home bound at last. My expectations were entwined with food and wine, and the comfort of my own bed.
My ornaments are fruits; my garments leaves,
Woven like cloth of gold, and crimson dyed;
I do no boast the harvesting of sheaves,
O’er orchards and o’er vineyards I preside.
Though on the frigid Scorpion I ride,
The dreamy air is full, and overflows
With tender memories of the summer-tide,
And mingled voices of the doves and crows.
Lora Lee Sep 2017
Sometimes
         I feel a well
                   dug deep
         into my heart
  I try to stop it
but it quickly
becomes ocean
  and overflows  
     into great tsunami
          rises over all the levees
             rushes past dams                  
               breaks down tall
                   city structures,
              edifices crumbling
           in its path
     all the squid and octopi
    skitting forth
in wild pulses,
tentacles entangled
     in doorways and rooves
        slipping through narrow
                window-openings
                   as they pour ink
                       in clouds,
                         shifting shapes
                          in cephalopod excitement
                            while blue whales
                            and humpbacks
                               breach over bridges,
                             phosphorescent jellies
                          light up
                       the dark streets of
                      my arteries
                     electric eels illuminate
                    the alleyways of
                   desolation's thick syrup
                     and I cannot stop it even
                            if I wanted to,
                   these darkened,
                     swirling waves
I am both floating and flying
like a jumping manta ray
curling around the ferries
bobbing in seahorse iridescence
weaving between buses
as if they were corals

And when the storm subsides,
colorful rockpools form,
rich in diversity
It is there,
in between the
multicolored ***** and
succulent shellfish,
in a mermaid's
       voluptuous smile
and turquoise eye
that I see you,
so crystal clear
                I could reach out              
                      and bring you to me,          
                         holding you tight
                         until the
                gentle break
     of
          morning
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVGQWw4Ap6o
K Balachandran Sep 2012
Endless icy expanse, inspires a wordless wisdom,
Himalayan peaks, silent echoes of deep meditation.
**A cold wind incessantly hums primeval "Om"
Inside, a formless flower blooms, nectar overflows!
A close encounter with the grand Himalayan landscape is a transforming experience
Onoma Jun 2015
The cup overflows
at present...
filling what we
see at present,
emptying what
we see at present.
Heather Mirassou Jul 2010
In sunny solitude
The swelling seas
Erase the bank of haze
Birds begin to sing
A skylark soars in the air

Purple hills of paradise
No longer dampened souls
Tossing and turning in the night
Pearl white peaks
Hypnotize across the planet

The color of strength
Of a rainbow myriad
Green cascading canopies
No longer drinking
Nature’s tears away

With fluorescent green
Humming birds
Under the turquoise sky
The vintage rustic vines
Are revived to a new life

Rejoicing hearts
Of amethysts and emeralds
Are awakened from
The breeze of heaven
Vines whisper in awe

Her sun
Sky sweet bliss
Fountain overflows
To twilight shade
Robed fields of gold

Her young berries
Plump and iridescent
Until harvest comes
She will say goodbye
And again renew
Heather Mirassou Copyright 2010
Noah Dec 2014
when you tell me I'm in love with all our friends
I know it's a joke and I laugh along, but really, it's true.
I can't help but love so many
five
ten
twelve faces
Girls are so beautiful and boys are so beautiful and all others are so beautiful
I don't love you any less, I don't love them any more, but sometimes it overflows, dripping down the sides of my form
cutting through negative space
I have always been the one to sit in the attic, always been the one to savour the cold, always been used to metallic rattles and the feeling of coughing once more before I can pull away from from the back of my throat
and sometimes when I'm surrounded
by beautiful people and their conditioner words,
it just glows
Tonight I just feel like everything might be all right, for all of us.
Somewhere in the darkest corners
Of a speck of land
Shadowed on a world map,
There is a girl who still believes in wonder.

She is childlike faith vacuum sealed
In pint-sized hope
A revolution craving to be lit up,
A breath of fresh air to anyone who has lived through dirt and pollution,
A livewire of well-kept new ideas.

She is a book.
A good one but a closed one.
A book that sits on the front shelves at bookstores
But nobody dared to read between her lines.

But other than the galaxies of impossibilities she has sketched up in her head,
She is nothing more than short of perfection,
Small
Flawed
Misunderstood
But
Her hopeful whispers needed a microphone.

She believes in the hustle and bustle of success in her little speck of land
Impossible, it may seem
as she IS a speck
in a sliver of land
in a country that is almost always forgotten by anyone who has browsed through a map,
Disregarded by other countries
Abandoned by its own people
But forget the size on a scale of the earth.
Little as she is,
to her, her speck of land is big enough
Big enough to fill with all the love a person is capable of.
Big enough to fill with hands that held each other tight enough to be called unity
Big enough to be filled with more confidence in the country
than pride in personality.
In fact, the word "big" is too little
To describe the way she sees things.

She believes in herself
But she also believes that she is small.
And insanely enough, she believes she can be both
That her individuality for a stand out country
Could not be limited by
A weak immune system
Or the amount of inches she grows in a year
Or the color of her hair.

Yes, when the world gets tough,
And when everything larger
Turns against her
Pressing her into a cage of painful pressure,
She helps herself
By sticking her hand out for the very people who make her weak.
Because courage turns into cowardice
If it is not used to stand up for others.

And though she is small,
That only means she could make her way through
The narrow roads
In a tricky path called life.
Bending when branches of trouble swept above her,
Crouching when the rain poured,
And slipping into deep spaces.

But more importantly,
Overpowering all her beliefs,
She believes in something higher,
In something much stronger than the strength of her imagination,
In something that could turn her plans into a reality,
And the best part of it all is that this "higher force"
Is a He
And He believes in her
Much more than she believes in Him.
She holds her plans for this country in a teapot,
But He is the One who pours it over us
Until this cup, this country, overflows.

She believes this country is ready.
And as for Him, well,
So does He.

But no matter how wondrous she makes the future of this country seem,
We are still everything she didn't say we would be.
So, scavenge your heart for the truth,
Dig around for treasure and hope,
Seek high and low for even the little shards of faith,
Because one day,
We might just find her
In you and in me.
"How can young Filipino Christians demonstrate leadership and contribute to nation building?"

This poem was my answer in the finals of my school's spoken word poetry competition.
{My Soul} I summon to the winding ancient stair;
Set all your mind upon the steep ascent,
Upon the broken, crumbling battlement,
Upon the breathless starlit air,
"Upon the star that marks the hidden pole;
Fix every wandering thought upon
That quarter where all thought is done:
Who can distinguish darkness from the soul

{My Self}.  The consecretes blade upon my knees
Is Sato's ancient blade, still as it was,
Still razor-keen, still like a looking-glass
Unspotted by the centuries;
That flowering, silken, old embroidery, torn
From some court-lady's dress and round
The wodden scabbard bound and wound
Can, tattered, still protect, faded adorn

{My Soul.} Why should the imagination of a man
Long past his prime remember things that are
Emblematical of love and war?
Think of ancestral night that can,
If but imagination scorn the earth
And interllect is wandering
To this and that and t'other thing,
Deliver from the crime of death and birth.

{My self.} Montashigi, third of his family, fashioned it
Five hundred years ago, about it lie
Flowers from I know not what embroidery --
Heart's purple -- and all these I set
For emblems of the day against the tower
Emblematical of the night,
And claim as by a soldier's right
A charter to commit the crime once more.

{My Soul.} Such fullness in that quarter overflows
And falls into the basin of the mind
That man is stricken deaf and dumb and blind,
For intellect no longer knows
Is from the Ought, or knower from the Known --
That is to say, ascends to Heaven;
Only the dead can be forgiven;
But when I think of that my tongue's a stone.

{My Self.} A living man is blind and drinks his drop.
What matter if the ditches are impure?
What matter if I live it all once more?
Endure that toil of growing up;
The ignominy of boyhood; the distress
Of boyhood changing into man;
The unfinished man and his pain
Brought face to face with his own clumsiness;
The finished man among his enemies? --
How in the name of Heaven can he escape
That defiling and disfigured shape
The mirror of malicious eyes
Casts upon his eyes until at last
He thinks that shape must be his shape?
And what's the good of an escape
If honour find him in the wintry blast?
I am content to live it all again
And yet again, if it be life to pitch
Into the frog-spawn of a blind man's ditch,
A blind man battering blind men;
Or into that most fecund ditch of all,
The folly that man does
Or must suffer, if he woos
A proud woman not kindred of his soul.
I am content to follow to its source
Every event in action or in thought;
Measure the lot; forgive myself the lot!
When such as I cast out remorse
So great a sweetness flows into the breast
We must laugh and we must sing,
We are blest by everything,
Everything we look upon is blest.
The holiest of all holidays are those
Kept by ourselves in silence and apart;
The secret anniversaries of the heart,
When the full river of feeling overflows;—
The happy days unclouded to their close;
The sudden joys that out of darkness start
As flames from ashes; swift desires that dart
Like swallows singing down each wind that blows!
White as the gleam of a receding sail,
White as a cloud that floats and fades in air,
White as the whitest lily on a stream,
These tender memories are;—a fairy tale
Of some enchanted land we know not where,
But lovely as a landscape in a dream.
JAMIL HUSSAIN Dec 2017
Teri Payal Agar Chhanak Jaye
Gardish-e-Asmaan Titthak Jaye

If your anklets, made a sound
Spinning of heavens, would pause

Tere Hansne Ki Kaifiyat Tauba
Jaise Bijli Chamak Chamak Jaye

Nature of your laughter, God forbid!
Like bolts and flashes, lightning draws

Teri Gardan Ka Tazkira Sun Kar
Jo Surahi Hai Woh Chhalak Jaye

Hearing, portrayal of your neck
Even a goglet, overflows

Le Agar Jhoom Kar Tu Angrai
Zindagi Daar Par Latak Jaye

Twirling, if you pandiculate
Existence, would hang by the ropes

Choor Hai Aise Paakpan Tera
Jaise Das Das Ke Saamp Thak Jaye

Broken to atoms is your innocence
Like once bitten fatigue a snake shows

Teri Ankhoon Ko Dekh Paiye Agar
Jo Farishta ** Woh Bahak Jaye*

If one wins to see your eyes
Even an angelic, deluded grows

✒ Translated by ℐamil Hussain , Sung by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan

— The End —