Lo,
they hailed him
sweet in the fervor
trumpets murmur
triumph's pleasure
at
last
he said
the day is done
and judgment falls
upon the crown
that bore the sin
that bore their sin
that bore our sin
and cast it within
into the depths
of the hungry well
to drown in hell
to drown in hell
the sins they went
ne'er to return
and shut the well
amen,
the well

Lo,
they bid him molten praise
cast iron for his head
a new crown to wed
a new crown instead
for sin was cast away
into the well
into its hell
for sin is the devil
who tried and was not true
whose face was blue with envy
whose pride was green with shame,
and sin did waltz inside
like a prideful man to the gallows
for he takes his death with gladness
for his toils shall be put to rest
for his evils shall ne'er live again,
into the well, as well...
into its hell, do tell.

I saw the sins of man
become a squawking heron,
that claimed the bounds of heaven
and swallowed its own hubris instead
for heaven's beauty was a gift
so humbling
such bliss
the heron blazed with hellfire
and the hellfire was no more,
for there
a sun had shone
as if it never left
but the well did not know the sun,
and hell did not as well,
the sins and gallows hence
married their supper of crows
for carrion were they to themselves
manifold in its selfsame misery,
for misery sates misery,
and wrath sates wrath,
and pride sates pride,
and envy sates envy,
and lust sates lust,
and gluttony sates gluttony,
and greed sates greed,
but nothing sates the sun,
nothing sates the sun,
for the sun is sated of Himself,
for He eats of his own being,
to create for all creation,
infinitely into infinity,
the infinity of the sun,
for the sun is pure, and potent,
the sun is light, and grace,
the sun is mercy, and love,
the sun is forgiveness, and truth,
and these are the gifts of the sun to all.

These are the gifts of God by the sun.
And may it shine forever.
May the sun bless us all.

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

Total me a dream
Find me, a corner of an eye
Save me, the turn of chaste, in whim
And poise, me is a reason to be why

A house...
A character of decency, we delve long and tight
A stirring hour, we hope is beyond a days shroud
Taken with the memory, of sincerity to share might...?

A place...
Found with the eyes of wonder, we make for ourselves
Chance heiring, in the name of a vice's pace
Of coping how, and the semblance of seclusion, a wealth?

A room...
For sign's of witness, particular to shadows of change
Wealth is to be the common, the thought to let liberty mushroom
And become a friend, of worth in loyal sates; however strange...

A step...
Forward with communion to entail even the solitude, we meant
For a night's angel, and the demands of couth we select for wit?
See the composed guide me to the strength I know, is more sent...

A stone we should know...
Passing all to follow the method of our following
Promise and privilege, in the seem, to wish once upon a time to owe
Swept away with the today we accept, is a now in the hallowing...

G-D bless the united Sates

                          of AMERICA

and ALLEH BLESS CANDA

SOCIALIST COMMNIST PIGS

            some pagan satan ravens

kissing each others of the same ***

hot on the ***** mouth,     crushing

each others black-winged desires

into diamonds of

                              hard lust

        they wear as inverted

            wedding rings

kiss this cross !! burn everyone,

womin and childrin first !!

THE KKKANADiENS ARE HERE

The lights all up around me
They dance and flicker
Swirling up and down each tree
As the music gets quicker
What a colorful holiday
Something new around each bend
We climb into Santa’s sleigh
And begin to ascend
The clouds fall below us
As we are launched into the sky
The turns we took were brusque
But the heavens never felt so nigh…
...
...
I cover you with a quilt
For the sleigh keeps climbing higher
Towards your hometown we tilt
I wonder, what will transpire?
There’s something big in the back
Is it full of coal?
Perhaps there’s something else in that sack
A doll, a plane, a little toy troll?
Perhaps we will find out
Your hometown draws near
Rudolf raises his red snout
Followed by the rest of the reindeer…
...
...
They shift their gaze
Towards a landing strip
People down there in a craze
We must look like a spaceship
They angle their flight
Right down the middle
It is quite the sight
And the thrill makes us giggle
What’s going on down below?
I ask Santa sitting up front
“I don’t really know”
He says as a reindeer grunts
“They must be waiting for you
Down there, to see what took place
For you came back with her,
That’s not exactly commonplace”
I look back at you, and you meet my gaze
Together we’ll get through
Of that I have no doubt
The sleigh is landing now
There is no backing out…
...
...
Santa pulls up on the reins
On the landing strip the sleigh glides
Only stepping out remains
As we do, the crowd divides
There in the middle
Surrounded by curious people
Stands a man with thumbs he twiddles
He looks more nervous than you or I
I grab your hand and look back again
This is it, we feel suddenly shy
Now’s not the time, so confidence we feign
We look forward and meet his eye
He looks at us and gives a sigh
“Dad?” you say
You look back at me, with display
Introductions are made
Feelings are conveyed
We no longer stand in a masquerade
Everything is out
The closet has swung open
We have nothing left to hide
You squeeze my hand
I coincide
As we look to your dad and wait
…
…
He looks at you with love
Then he looks at me squarely
Before he can say a word
Santa breaks in and shouts “let’s all be merry!”
The crowd breaks into laughter
As Santa sates the air with a magic
And joy fills everyone’s thoughts
Your father looks at us again
This time, with a smile, he simply nods

kurukshetra grey
but iridescent with the glory of all dreams combined
some omphalos of lusciousness still pumps
an umbilicus of sates
to broadening skies,
parhelion whims

But the sun doesn't shine
Upon me
As it used to,
Feel so attached to
My precious devices
And harnessing its
Divine potency
Just to see
Seems as if I'm
Disregarding its poetry
Blind to abusing its glow
To be shown
An ephemeral glimpse
Of some remnant of home
But its spark does not energize
My own creations
Just sates them with meager
Technology rations
And hooks me to wires
And cables
Like playthings

Just a word, Lord…
is what I desire today.
Often I devote quality time with Thee,
hoping to learn more of your Holy ways.

Just a word, Lord…
keeps me moving forward with You;
embrace me with Your Presence,
in everything that I say and do.

[CHORUS]

Just a word, Lord…
provides me with Everlasting Life.
Being focused on You,
reduces the noise of earthly strife.

Just a word, Lord…
completely captures my heart.
My longing for You flows as water,
that sates the thirsty hart.

[CHORUS]

Just a word, Lord…
brings me out of the wilderness.
Hear and answer my cries to be
clothed with Your Righteousness.

Just a word, Lord…
lifts and inspires my weary spirit.
Cover me with grace continually,
in anticipation of Your heavenly junket.

[CHORUS]

_____________
[CHO­RUS]
Open the eyes of my understanding;
remove the spiritual blinders on me!
Always keep in my remembrance…
Your sacrifice on that accursed tree.






Author Notes:

Loosely based on:
Ezekiel 7:1-8, 1 Kings 6:11-13, Ezekiel 12:1-2, 26-28, John 6:47, Galatians 6:8

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2010, All rights reserved.

She stands tall and proud, her elegant architecture that even on winter mornings warms an icy breath and sates an empty belly.

In the burst of sunlight, beyond and through the trees, she is a muffle of loud voices, calling out a name, I can't quite catch it, in the rush of a westerly wind and the swirl of Autumn leaves.

The echoes bounce off the bark, and in her resonance heralds the death knell of the light and the coming of the children of the dark.

The moon wrestles in a patchwork cloudy sky, and I the Watcher can do nothing to halt time or the tide.

Left to watch as the Belle Tower fades from sight, silently she hides in the long shadow, and like the moonlight between the trees, flickers as she slowly passes me by.

This is number 12 my "Count Orlok" series. It is choice.*


A blind woman weeps in the cold shadows
Tears for the agony she has endured,
And will endure as she must watch her son,
Her only begotten son, joy of her blind eyes,
Being ripped to shreds by the Beast.

Deep in the darkest shadows of blackest Hades
The Foul Beast wallows in virgins' blood,
Delighting in the raucous screams of pain,
As his devil-minions roast their victims
Before sodomising them with white hot rods.

She sees through her flame-ruined blind eyes
Her ****** son dragged down into the pit
And splayed onto the charred crucifix,
Naked and helpless before the mighty Beast,
Who bellows with eldritch joy at the sight.

Even the flames are too cold for the Beast:
He must have more white heat to relish the pain
That shall be inflicted on his curséd victims;
And the devils dance around the screaming boy
Before the Beast sates his lust in the victim's smelly ****.

Suddenly you thirst for her kiss
And she sates you with lips and tongue
So you feel the warmth of her cheeks
And terror at what you've just done.

Love addicts,
High from a single touch,
Trembling from a single kiss,
Sighing for what might be
Could be, and should be,
Hooked into our own groove,
For I am your drug,
And you, sweet woman,
You are totally mine,
As we lust for a fix,
Lost within a vertiginous miasma,
Reeling from a passion that sates,
So blissfully satisfying, and yet,
Also leaves us wanting more,
So much more that we ache,
Cast adrift upon an ocean,
One previously unknown,
The swells heaving,
The currents swirling,
Tides of wanton desire,
Surf crashing over us poor,
Love addicts.

©Paul M Chafer 2017

we were a classical case
of too many chemicals
catalytic affections
that infect with their tentacles
grab hold, render me wrecked
in the best of ways and the worst
sweet poison that sates something
only to instill a greater thirst

The wind is my lover
and the water that pivots
beneath the sky above me
could be any color for all
the attention I'm paying it.
For in the speed that whips
me about in a circle,
this world loses meaning.
As my hair gains independence
and my skin darts behind me
in the afternoon heat
and my limbs numb utterly
to victorious speed,
all my cares and leaden ties
are brought to light
and shown their insubstantiality;
they are spat derisively
into the dusk.

For the wind is my lover
and he sates my hungers
and visits with my youth
and quiets my longing
for sense with every velvet
torrent that passes through
my open hand.

And when the boat stops, I will break apart.
Would that the wind would grasp me and pull me
aft into the blackness beyond the shore.

a wonderful poetess friend
I did happen upon
she has a welcoming heart
ever to don

twas fated that we became
the very best of sisterly mates
there's such a genuine nature
in her soul's sates

I speak
of a true
confidante
one who
I implicitly
trust
I speak
of a true
treasure
with qualities
that are a
must

dear Winn is an awesome
kind of gal
and I'm so thrilled having her
as my American pal

Sitting on the edge,
mountains make a hedge,
horizon's silhouette, borders

to the imagination
of what lies beyond,
juste le beau monde,
anglacism, ou non?

Peace is what awaits
where my imagination
                          sates,
while I breathe slowly,
the last of the sunset air,
just out of reach, over there
past my fingertips, but
I touch the distant clouds,
the sky changes hue and
I imagine you sitting in the
next room, as the colour
matches your blush, and
a hush comes over the world
as I close my eyes,
and still see the mountains
with green pine trees so high,
and I breathe in and hold
I am
refreshed
by the mountain air so cold
and bracing sends my
heart racing,
no balcony,
no home,
just the mountain
the rocky mountain
beneath my feet,
the solid rock
created by
God.

<>
"I am learning a little—never to be sure—
To be positive only with what is past,
And to peer sometimes at the things to come
As a wanderer treading the night
When the mazy stars neither point nor beckon,
And of all the roads, no road is sure"

Experience by Carl Sandburg

<>

summarizes my life, the fits and starts,
at every fork, the wrong road taken

and I lean back,
pensive from my shame,
knowingly confessing
that I would make the
wrong choices again

maybe, sadly, most likely...

the maps they provided early on,
were ok, but I never lived
on their edge,
never went far enough,
warned off,
all bordered in the red of
"go no farther,"
so stuck to the worn and grooved paths,
ventured out,
but retreated to safe center court
covered with the wounding cuts of
self-castigating tears,
for my lack of courage
and the waste and burdens
engendered permanent

maps for me,
are now no longer necessary,
for any road of mine is
closer my god to thee,
and my notice that
"the-show-is closing"warning
is a nearing destination,
slips quietly into my back pocket

now, I permission routine
to drive my simpler life,
where easy, gentling kindness
of the usual, the regularizing
steady as she goes,
are my comfy shoes upon
to tread the familiar road of surety...

that sates but doesn't fully satisfy

for the harsh hanging judge,
my resident permanent
on the top floor of my brain,
sentenced me as a young man
me to life imprisonment
in my very own self-built
asylum insane,
where all the tempting ladders were
maps that led to
This Way Out

was so fearful
to grasp and vault
from the top rung to
the uncertain pleasures
of the unknown of the other side

only here,
in the paths of my poetic words
do I venture across boundaries
and back over lines
that dare and
dare not
be refused

the great exposition
the great expiation
the great explication
of one man

words are my living will,
my testament,
my behests, my bequests,
my medals of discourage and
urges not followed,
tarnished but worn proudly

left to my
children's children
as a lesson plan
of one man

of a life poorly well and almost lived
these words are the rebar to build,
to cartograph,
to illustrate
new maps,
better ways,
signed posts
to take the risk of writing,
go gadget go abroad,
create new poems, new styles,
better than those
I that live~leave-left rightly
behind for
fellow travelers,
grandchildren,
who will - who must!
use them
to unmake the errors
I herein freely confess

12:07 Sunday July 10th of his sixty fifth year

From the fading warmth of my cheek,
her arm cascaded to her side,
like the minute hand of a clock:
how minute I felt in the absence
of touch.

It was her touch
that revealed what it is
to be alone.
It is her touch
that cemented the truth
built up
like a fairy-tale tower,
plastered upon my skin;
rooted
in each step I take.

As time passes,
in my lofty solitude,
I forget her face.
I forget the trace
of touch,
marking out the
far reaches of
my heart,
the territory she stole,
the jigsaw piece she
lost.

What remains is a memory...
Enshrined
in the gems
of dragon's treasure;
entombed
in the lands
of hopeless measure:
it remains.

I seek it out
in a perilous journey,
across arid time, and crooked space
it bathes in rubies,
it's slender edges, and soft lace;
there's her face!

The memory in the crook
of my lap, it sates
my bleeding heart
my barren fates
circadian rhythm, it sings to me
it's precious here
a sight to see
go now life
leave me be
with her I'm fixed
no broken dreams.

I cradle memory
turn it over to find...
What's this? An edge is cracked?
How come!
Is it the witching hour?
Where's loaded gun?
The memory pours
out forth the fun
I lose the memory
dear love is done.

Out on the steps
of my life post-love,
I share a drink
with a charcoal dove.

Do we gi' a nod
or a sigh
for the young lod'
wanting to die?

For life is no' full
nor empty
Sates not tha' pull
by the time ye be twenty

Plod on, plod on
Hope in tha' kingdom come
neither sell nor pawn
Life, precious beyon' sum

Eyes black as coal, light the fire of passion
Tingling wisps of pleasure radiates from the depths
Finally jostled from hibernation,
The longing beast within is stirred
Natural instincts do engulf it,
And a presence from a past life leads
Whist gingerness is mixed with crushing blows
The dish that’s made sates the lust of love
And more is said with tongues subdued
Than the talking of a million hours time.

Into the folds of the dress and the mold.
Though he is old and he has no more sense.
You've never heard this, it hasn't been told,
Of the babbling coot: his all-seeing eye.

Drooling over his woodcarving he waits.
The boys find him, his eyes rolling circles.
Old man! Tell us. What's in this box of dates?
Another box, old mans says, just a box.
And within that box? A little boy grates.
Another box, the old man says, just a box.
The boys chatter with glee at what truth sates.
They run off, "Old man ain't crazy! Just old."

Talking to a black bird, the old man sat.
The boys find him: bird nodding agreement.
Old man! Across the sea! How old's old Pat?
A scratch of the chin. "Why, she's fifteen, boys."
The boys, perplexed, walk away; that was that.
"They'll bury him there," old man said. Bird squawks.

Rocking in chair, whistling his old, old tune.
The men find him looking young than ever.
Old man! Been years! Where's the pirate's treasure?
The men drunkenly wait for the magic.
Old man whispers in the ear of the eldest.
Eldest pulls out map; his eyes almost burst.
The men run off as if chasing the sun.

A shovel shakes off its last bead of dirt.
Tears, precious pearls of sorrow, ease burdens.
The men, swathed in finery, mourn for friend.
"Old man!" New eldest asks, "You knew didn't you?"
Old man titters, "I only saw, boys, see?"
New eldest grabs old man. Birds squawk in trees.
Black clouds ooze across the sky overhead.
Winds rattle the old man's house... death rattles.
The men pull new eldest away from there.
Old man drops to ground. He stands up to stare.
The spooked men run off back to their home town.

A black bird swoops onto old man's shoulder.
" 'Twas my box of dates they showed me that day.
Twas my great grandchild Pat who they spoke of.
And 'twas my gold they were all looking for.
My eye only sees what belongs to me!"

The old man sat down in his rocking chair.
In the moonlight, a glimmer of gold eyes,
spoke of a soulless pirate king's riches.

We exchange phrases in the dark
Like playmates turned confidants
That needed a necessary spark
To release a subtle vulnerability

While my own heart goes crazy with this longing, festering desire
Unsightly circumstances that are shallow and pedantic
Helpless to the careful method
In which your soft voice enraptures me

If I paid attention
Suspended my voice of reason
I'd end up searching for a branch to connect us that bears no fruit
For attraction is aloof
And ever fleeting

And it's been years since we met
With nothing in between
No lover's dreams connecting us
All that comes from me on impulse
Is lust
As you lay enveloped in young covers
And I in forgotten rust

I lay here on my cowardly spine
Tracing lines through memories
Attempting to control the feelings overwhelming me
I'm Lovecraft's outsider
Who fell off the face of the earth once looking upon his reflection
My clever deception that forever keeps me second guessing

Here comes another confession
As we lay discussing seemingly ethereal dreams
You tell me surreptitiously
About your hatred for concession stands
And breach this tension
That broke my mind's sinful schemes

You're such a good friend
Lying in bed and taking the time
To engage in a real discussion
All the while I'm fighting to control how my face is blushing

I'm definitely attracted but I wouldn't hold that sentiment
So I sit with a preventative
Dose of rationale designed to corral all these untethered caprices

It's like a fascist demands to make a statement
While a whimsical, dying romantic sates himself in a debate
I don't ever ask questions to get the answers I'm looking for
When all it takes is a turn of phrase
Or an upturned twitch in cheek
Which leaks so much more than mere words can say

I appreciate you for the jovial tune your voice gives away
It brings me forward from self-deprecation and the drama Towards honesty

I value your pleasant enthusiasm while the lights are off
That dissipates my impure thoughts
It puts me in a righteous place
Until the break of dawn when we can see our faces
And once again adorn our individual reliefs

You've confided in me more than what others get to see
Life has been rough and even though I'm lingering
Longing for your touch
Your careful words mean so much
And truly I think it's enough

I have learned to wield the morning.
Rise in the razors light and her ambient glow
Champion of the spinal stretch
and the sensuous yield of the Muse below.

The past moments and the aches and the arches
left behind like the bramble bush of broken dreams
Now the chastity of yesterday's youth is laid to waste
and the dominance of her screams and thy pagan tastes.

My ***** stir for breakfast.
The Muse of the morning awakens
and sates the demons bathed in sin

Leaving but the residues
of her bitter sweet fruits upon my beard
to later grace the air
and the wafting breeze
that only other passing women
can sense,
and then rejoice within.

I'm not going to “Pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America”.
We aren’t “One nation, under God”.
What happened to “Liberty and justice for all”?
People stopped caring, that’s what.
These are a few words from our pledge, yet all I read is empty promises.
The first two amendments of our very own Constitution include these;
One: Freedom of speech. Yet we aren’t allowed to say what we think.
Two: Freedom of press. Yet tv and radio stations can’t swear.
Three: Freedom of religion. But if one doesn’t agree with another’s religion they point it out.
Four: Peaceable Assembly. But we can’t protest without causing “Problems”.
Five: Petition the Government. Yet the government always has final say.
And six: The right to bear arms. So why are they taking our guns?
“Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on the continent,
a new nation, conceived in liberty,
and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.”
Abraham Lincoln, Gettysburg Address, November 19th, 1863.
Some of the greatest words ever said in or about our country.
Most of us as American’s have thrown all that away.
Men and women are both treated unfairly.
There are Feminists out there complaining about every little mistake a man can make.
Men on average earn 22% more in pay than women do.
There are 13 states where they have banned same *** marriage.
Nothing about America shows equality.
Women and men are out there fighting for us right now, or have in the past.
They fight to keep our country whole, and free, and peaceful, and united.
But it’s hard to keep something united that has not been in a long time. So no.
I won’t pledge my allegiance to the flag of the Broken Sates of America
Until it is fixed again. Would you?

Thief of a golden light
Blood of a night leading the forbidden sates
Something that confirmed victory
Confirmed hope

But until a heir closes the gate
Our light is stolen
Time and space consumed
Lost in void.

Intimacy
by Rahat Indori
loose translation 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 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 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 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 by Michael R. Burch

Achievements may fade but the name sounds 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 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 by Michael R. Burch

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



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

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



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

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

Keywords/Tags: Rahat Indori, Urdu, translation, Bollywood, love, intimacy, stars, moon, ocean, sea, river, eyes, heart, lips, dust, family, mrburdu

Inhale nature's incense,
Fill with life
As since first breath,
And exhale.
Nothing disappears.
     Where does love go?

A broken robin's blue
Beneath a fallen leaf;
The curling smoke,
A lap of shoreline suds,
The dust from fallen stones.
     Where does love go?

The pounds we shed,
The worry we dread,
And all about me's thin,
Heaviness dissipates.
     Where does love go?

Beads gather on my brow
Then rivulet down my nose,
Drops like autumn roses.
     Where does love go?

I hurt a friend,
His pain was real,
My remorse reached his ears,
I saw his pain disappear.
     But where does love go?

It's not recyclable, reuseable,
But environmentally friendly:
It's measured like a tailored suit
No one else can wear.
An exclusive gift,
Free as loaves and fishes.
     Where does it go?

It sates, some stays,
Some grows, then fades;
It's quantity unmeasured.
     But where does love,
     That all time love,
     That one time love,
     Where,
     Where did it go?

i'm an open book with torn out pages,
misprints, flaws stained in ink,
looking for a patient editor.

but it's hard to hold you,
when the night is still young,
and i'm shaking, twisting, turning.

this heart of mine, forever inclined,
to find the one that sates this hunger,
the burning desire of wonder.

novel feelings of unending love,
lust that singes and burns the pages,
from lips, tongues, fingers, that sing a sweet praise.

yet all i find is one more tedious lie,
a heart half gone and yearning for another,
or simply a waste of time.

if only i could find you,
and take your hand,
surely our souls would bleed into the sand.

instead,
here i am,
waiting for rain.

You alchemist  turning grayslate days
into luminescent jade

You tempestuous temptress
with voice of thunder and lightning eyes

Your skin sparkles sun and stars
painting peace on our scars

We swim in your moon
trembling in your silver ******

We sleep beside you by night
your abundance sates our days

We dash and flash and storm
you caress and touch and transform

The wisdom of your vastness
reaches us in waves

Oh you liquid goddess
leap into our souls

and make us whole  

Written - 5-24-2003

I've told you once
I've told you before
You are the one I want
And no more

You have some things
Not of my desire
But you have everything
Of what I want

Within you
Lies the fire
You are the first
That sates my fire

You are my love
And my heart

NO matter what
You can always talk to me

Just don't be stupid
And don't disrespect me

I don't ask much
But I ask that of you

He slipped on a set of headphones,
Adjusted a dial or two,
Then introduced his radio show
And the members of his crew,
‘The Horror Tales of the Greats’ he read
Each week to the folk in town,
Just as the Moon was coming up
With the sun then truly down.

And the folk had huddled round speakers
To hear, in a thousand homes,
The tales of Edgar Allan Poe
In the speaker’s crackling tones,
And an eerie mist fell over the town
If they chanced to look outside,
As the ghosts of horror stories past
Rose up from the place they died.

Each tone was sent with a shiver
From the night’s Plutonian shore,
Just as that stately bird of old
Had repeated, ‘Nevermore!’
While the cats had yowled in the alleyways
When he read a tale of sin,
Of walling up the corpse of his wife
When the Black Cat did him in.

The Fall of the House of Usher,
The Masque of the Red Death,
The tales built up in the atmosphere
And made them short of breath,
The Cask of Amontillado,
The Pendulum and the Pit,
Whatever the horror, and most intense
There was always more of it.

The stars that shone in the evening sky
Had gone, though the sky was clear
As the Moon had dropped down, over a hill
While the airwaves dripped with fear,
And the walls back there, in the studio
Were seeming to seep a flood,
As the speaker droned in the microphone
The studio filled with blood.

And suddenly then, a different voice
Was heard all over the town,
Rattling through their radio’s
And shouting the reader down.
‘Shutter your windows and lock your doors
Put children under the bed,
Hide yourselves right under the stairs
Or you may well end up dead!’

‘The very air that you breathe has been
Long saturated with dread,
Has filled your lungs with the ripe unclean
That came from somebody’s head.
The ghostly voice on your radio
That has whispered blood and gore,
Will drown tonight in the studio
So there won’t be any more.’

And right behind that terrible voice
There was choking sounds and screams,
Enough to curdle the very blood
And to give them nightmare dreams,
Then after a long, chilled silence of
The type that terror sates,
A voice said, ‘that was the final of
The Horror Tales of the Greats.’

David Lewis Paget

these feelings are quakings high,
that ripple through like tides that rise
these echoes in the distance,
are nostalgic feelings,
how ominous they seem, though comforting;
I feel less but more
these sad days are bright for sure
im better feeling within myself
but life remains and fame that gains,
I hold to flames, and thrive in rain,
I fall down as chains, above the drain
rolling hopes in whispers grow, I am the placid plains;
though effort melds my soul, ive nothing
in everything so down, above below.
molting is, im free. breaking bonds to seldom see
as water currents flow for thee
though life has always been, to be
nether and voids like eyes that see
and hollow holes, to want, to be
I need and yearn and in this stupor
show, how effort sates my soul, and shakes
as I begin to grow

Many things are needed to live
Hunger is satisfied by food
Water sates our thirst
Love keeps the soul alive

But those who create
They feel an additional need
Sanity is kept through creation
The release of thought into matter

Carpenters, Artists, Poets, creators all
What was not there but now exists
A deep love is held for creator to creation
An idea brewed, bourn, and born.

Life is not life to those who create
When creation is taken from them

The path that I like to wander on
Is a rural lane in the trees,
It’s a pleasant walk, and I tend to talk
To myself, just shooting the breeze.
Then it comes to a wood, and it parts in two
The main path tends to the right,
And heads up ‘til, just over the hill
It’s bathed in a pure sunlight.

And there stands a mansion in plain stucco
With columns that hold up a porch,
And each of the windows send out a beam
As of someone, holding a torch,
A woman dressed plainly in white comes out,
Invites me to come in for tea,
Then sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t,
But we spend our time pleasantly.

We sit in a kitchen that’s tiled in white
And the sunlight beams through the door,
She sometimes reads to me from a book,
And asks what I’m looking for.
I tell her I’m totally lost, and then
Confusion’s writ over my face,
So she makes the sign of the saviour’s cross,
And blesses me with her grace.

The other path veers off to the left,
Is narrow and mean through the trees,
It slopes on down to a valley with grass
Though a turn in the path deceives.
For hidden there in the undergrowth
Is a cottage in shadow, and grim,
Where a gypsy girl with an evil smile
Beckons for me to come in.

And sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t,
She isn’t offering tea,
She dances and whirls in the kitchen there,
And sometimes, sits on my knee.
She places my hand on her silken thigh,
And asks what I’m looking for,
I tell her I’m totally lost, and then
I struggle on out of her door.

A poet once said that he took the path,
The one less travelled by,
I’ve tried them both, and I still go back
To the ones both low, and high.
For my soul is soothed by the woman in white,
She lifts me up to the heights,
But the gypsy girl puts my mind in a whirl
And she sates my darker nights.

David Lewis Paget