A Song of the Lost Generations
A swarm of the birds came down,
Passed by caressing water.
O age!
O age of the caravans!
In search of what you passed over
The waters of centuries,
The arriving and departing springs
Came and went off what for,
And what for the evening
Through spaces passed away
Sinking in blood; and we passed away
From our lives what for.
In persuasion of what the dew drops,
Settled on the trees,
After the leaves had fallen apart.
The dew fell upon the desert,
By and by but dissipated in an instant.
The life of stars,
The whole life of all objects,
Sank down into the tears.
A gust of breeze passed away,
But grappling,
Who knows where has gone the wind.
The volley of arrows,
Went through swishing, quivering,
From the bow, who knows whom for.
Which were the desires that broke us into pieces,
And who should tell whom,
Now who rests where.
O falling shower, Soaring birds!
O breaking stars!
O my search exhausted friends!
Where do you dwell call us aloud?
We are nameless astray boats,
In the bankless blue ocean.
O! The wind of shores take us along,
We are the diminishing marks
Of curiosity from the snow clad valleys.
O! Life take us along,
In the darkness of forests,
We are rustling sounds of the steps
Halting on the dried leaves.
O! Guiding light take us along,
We are hotness of the journey,
We are dust of the route,
We are the age but too precise,
We are alive for an instant…
O! Wind take us along.
Where have gone You God?
Take us along! Take us along!
Written by:
Dr. Swarwar Kamran
Translated by:
Muhammad Shaanzar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Related quotes
The Old Year
IT PASSED like the breath of the night-wind away,
It fled like a mist at the dawn of the day;
It lasted its moment, then backward was hurled,
Another increase to the age of the world.
It passed with its shadows, its smiles and its tears,
It passed as a stream to the ocean of years;
Years that were coming—were here—and are o’er,
The ages departed to visit no more.
It passed, but the bark on its billowy track
Leaves an impression on waters aback:
The glow of the gloaming remains on the sky,
Unwilling to leave us—unwilling to die.
It fled; but away and away in its wake
There lingers a something that time cannot break.
The past and the future are joined by a chain,
And memories live that must ever remain.
poem by Henry Kendall
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Let Me Talk To The Wind
Let me talk to the wind,
We have to tell the complaint,
That we nourished against her,
Often it knocks at the doors,
And disturbs our sleep,
Sometimes brings along from abroad
The news of arrival of the dear one,
But he comes not. It blows out
All quivering lamps of the lashes,
Sometimes awakens melody in the lute,
It mixes itself in the beats of heart-beats,
Sometimes it fells aged dried leaves,
It gives the birds a ride
By making them homeless.
Let me talk to the wind,
Look how it descends,
Pushes boats on the chest of the sea,
It blows from all directions around,
And with a caressing touch
Shapes unsullied faces on the coastal sand,
Then it flattens them all and how it trains
The wingless clouds to soar,
Then squeezing the drops
Out of them garnishes the Earth,
How it smiles and hums
Diving into the chain of breath,
How it blows swishing
And then becomes motionless;
To make out these secrets,
Let me talk to the wind.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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An Italian Sonnet: How spring fell into winter
In my childhood spring blew a vivacious wind;
Soaring onto all life with magnanimous form,
Emancipating the flowers from winter's rough storm.
It flew capriciously and landed upon my skin.
How immaculate the wind of spring blew
Possessing an efficacy which passed with grace.
My soul reverberated it, when all life grew.
Until spring passed; winter's wind stung my face.
My innocence then ventured into winter's cold night:
All sunlight has fallen with the snow,
The life from spring lost their glow.
I became lost fighting in winter's blight.
The years have past in winter's flow
Until i recognized my own inner sunlight.
poem by Andrew Burant
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In A Windowpane
I looked into a windowpane
Last evening in a city far away
I was feelin sad and blue
I wondered then if I should really stay
Wanting someone to be with me in the light of this uncertain time
Waiting by the window for the man inside
To please make up his mind
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
Never knowing never feeling anything
Will you live your whole life through never knowing what to do
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
I walked along the roadway to a fountain
Where lovers come to meet
A hobo walked up to me, I could tell
He didnt have enough to eat
He said, good sir you look so kind
And though the years have stripped me to the bone
It seems I am the better man
For in this place Ive never walked alone
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
Never knowing never feeling anything
Will you live your whole life through never knowing what to do
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
Where will you be, my friendly, when your
Telephone aint givin out no calls
And when the seasons come to haunt you
Will you still find springtime in the fall
And when youre on your island
Will you wave at every ship that passes by
And will you feed a hungry man
I thank you, sir,
Now Ill just say goodbye
Dont you be one who passed through but never saw
Never knowing never feeling anything
Will you live your whole life through never knowing what to do
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
Will you live your whole life through never knowing what to do
Will you be one who passed through but never saw
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Falling Leaves
Summer has passed, but
The weather is still fair.
The once leaf-laden trees,
Are, now, almost bear.
Leaves spiral down;
Spinning round and round,
Until, at last, they
Reach the ground.
The once green leaves,
Have now grown old,
And have created below,
A carpet of red, brown, and gold.
Whipped around by the wind,
The fallen leaves, float and fly.
A sudden gust of wind, catches them,
Sending them, sailing up high.
Leaves crunch underfoot;
They curl and decay.
There's a musty smell in the air,
As they slowly, waste away.
Soon the leaves will be gone,
And where they once had lain,
Will be just their lacy skeleton;
Soon, only an impression will remain.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Strong Points
To perceive astounds my life of love,
Stars happen on the event of my eye.
Strong travel has passed, and torture
Is passed, and future is passed,
The past will be passed,
As time, the fifty-ninth dimension,
Shall fully tug at the strong mind,
Alien after alien entered for me.
The perception is strong, stronger for the
Points taken, a nature of strength
Is any when.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Ch 01 Manner of Kings Story 30
A padshah having issued orders to kill an innocent man, the latter said: ‘"O king, seek not thine own injury on account of the anger thou bearest towards me." He asked: "How?" The man replied: "This punishment will abide with me one moment but the sin of it for ever with thee."
The period of life has passed away like the desert wind.
Bitter and sweet, ugliness and beauty have passed away.
The tyrant fanded he had done injury to us.
It remained on his neck and passed away from us.
This admonition having taken effect, the king spared his blood.
Dooms Day
Many a times
I passed through trouble
Many a times
I passed through pain
I was exploited
I was was humiliated
I was condemned
I was consumed by mystery
My wings were taken
So i couldn't fly
All i eat all day was my cry
I asked myself why
And there came a voice saying
In your affliction
Will you learn right
In your oppression
Will you rise how to fight
The sun shines at day
And stars at night
Arise and see the light
After six comes seven
I passed through hell
Before i could see heaven
I did not know that my worries
Will lead me to my haven
Many times
I passed through trouble
Many a times
I passed through pain
poem by Matt Ancient
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The Last Eve in the Metropolis
When skies begin to change,
New shawls of the seasons,
The people dress themselves
In new costumes,
And begin to keep
The old ones in the trunks,
Then you halt for a while to remember me!
I am a redundant attire
Of every crawling moment.
When birds begin to migrate
From the old regions,
Swarms soar onwards in the skies,
And they begin to ground themselves
In the valleys;
When some sparkling bird bathes,
In circles of the lake of memories
And fluttering his wings flies,
And when that diminishes,
Each moment into distant skies,
And becomes a mark worth forgetting,
Then you halt for a while to remember me!
When in minarets of light
Propped by hands of the sea,
The burning fire begins to extinguish
And in search of warmth and sometimes light
The number of birds thumping down
At the feet of minarets begin to grow,
Then see an astray bird of the swarm
Heading onwards at the sunset,
Then you halt for a while to remember me!
I who migrated too,
And tumbled door to door in search of light,
My presence in companies of friends,
Was fire burning on torso of the sea,
And its debacle appeared at last.
Friends! You will not forget,
But everything appeared to be forgotten,
All divine booklets favour my conviction,
Who…how long…whom ….anyone remembers,
Other anxieties there are too, to be heeded;
At times I shall be no more here,
But my eyes,
Immersed on the glassy windowpanes,
Of the restaurants,
Will ever remain behind,
To see you friends, wrangling, squabbling
On the dilemmas.
Friends! When evening begins to change
Into deep dark night
And sleep begins to flutter
In eyes of the lamps along passages of the city
And you intend to return,
Scatter on the paths,
Then you halt for a while to remember me!
I who was given existence with the ink Nothingness,
Came into the Kingdom of Being,
Shimmered for a moment,
And then dissolved.
My dear ones!
Be not diverged after my departure,
The same pliable prescription of compromise,
Is an antidote for all maladies.
Whatever someone says…though all do the same,
Every sanctimonious gets irritated on my thoughts,
And his happiness lies in it.
Everything here is personified,
Embodied by imposition of its own boundaries,
In alteration of linkages,
Each word in eyes
Of the meaning is a stable light,
Death: is a belief in the diseased truths,
In this world of patients;
And to articulate curiosity amid the dull-minded,
Is a massive death of heart and soul!
My eyes,
Hung in the spaces on high crosses,
Have been beholding since ages.
My eyes only see,
Here we all are words
Dying like worms on the paper of time.
My eyes are static
And everything is to pass on,
Where are budging on grey in the mist,
The marks of drifting faces of my friends,
The ocean extends far beyond in thousands of miles,
The earth is worn down to the depth of its core,
Towns, cities and toy-like houses,
Time taking along kids of centuries,
And wearing the costume
Of ruins has been passing on with no break in routine.
We tumbled down
From the dark clouds of Nothingness alone, alone,
And a thick blotting-sponge of Being
Made us all nebulous,
And being absorbed we have been dissolved,
All those whom I beheld at least bear the same tale.
Friends! Whenever you stop in your dialogue,
And I sojourn into your minds,
Then have a faith
That before the total extinction I shall pour down,
In the form of scalding drops of fresh blood,
So that I might left behind
Some indelible deep marks.
Some indelible deep marks!
When skies begin to change,
New shawls of the seasons,
The people dress themselves
In new costumes,
And begin to keep
The old ones in the trunks,
Then you halt for a while to remember me!
I am a redundant attire
Of every crawling moment.
Written by:
Dr. Swarwar Kamran
Translated by:
Muhammad Shaanzar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Evil Wind
Ten thousand miles I've travelled,
Ten thousand miles an' more,
Now I found myself standing,
Outside of my babies door.
I've been gone such a long time,
I never thought I would return,
Now I found myself standing in the rain,
Waiting for your key to turn, yeah, yeah.
Evil wind, passed me by,
Troubled waters, pay me no mind. I have heard the thunder,
Rolling across the sky, I have seen the morning sun,
Burn on a mountain high, I have crossed the waters
That will keep them miles apart, Now I know the time has come
To make a brand new start.
Evil wind, passed me by, Troubled waters, pay me no mind, Yeah.
Fly plane I'm coming home again, Plane fly, like an eagle
through the sky, Evil wind, troubled water, Pay me no mind; pay me no mind, oh.
Oh, yeah.
Evil wind, passed me by,
Troubled waters, pay me no mind, yeah.
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Storms Have Passed
the days are getting cloudy for me,
storm clouds over my head,
so dark, i can barely see,
the storms have passed by me.
the swetness of life, has passed me by,
of my life, the storms have went,
and i look forward to when i die,
the storms have passed me by.
of the Lord, i'll meet and see,
to be with Him, ever more,
and there, i'll never need to plea
the storms have passed by me.
One summer when the wind was strong
This is the place, now we are here again
I remember that summer when the wind was strong
And everything around us was dry,
The acacia trees towered and showered us with
Round leaves falling and falling and falling
Some birds were there and they flew away
Some cars were there and they speeded away
It was getting dark and it was a dry summer
We stayed there for a while when the leaves fell
Then we went under the trees not seeking shelter
But to catch those leaves falling and falling and falling
We are trying to feel again what falling was
We are here on this summer, we see the leaves
Falling and falling again to the dry wind,
We try to recall about us, but there is simply
Nothing about us anymore, but just the same
The leaves fall and fall and fall, we see them reenacting
There is that meaning; there it is in the falling
But we have outgrown it, we look for more, we hope
We can find some more, something beyond us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why Aren't We Sharing Fall
As the leaves on trees
Began to remind
Summertime is departing,
I thought of you
And hoped you too
Were wishing like me,
We were still holding each other...
As the sunset began to dip
To silhouette our kissing lips.
As the breeze blew
And falling leaves flew...
Autumn was approaching
To apply new hues.
Of red, orange, yellow and brown.
A colorful rusticness had found
Us living in New England reminiscing!
But we weren't 'this' distant then.
Those gone and passed on are remembered.
The holidays begin with Halloween.
How appropriate!
Masks are adorned,
To cover true identities.
Undercover...
And misunderstood with these feelings.
I could but I don't hide my memories too well.
I could...
But I don't pretend there is an emptiness,
In my heart.
I could...
But I don't let go of a love I know is real,
And felt when sharing it!
I don't...
But I should call.
To see if you are missing me at all.
And if you are,
Why aren't we sharing Fall together?
I don't...
But I should call.
To apologize for saying,
'I could care less if you leave! '
I can say,
I am 'sorry' to those who are gone and passed on!
And I know I have with them been forgiven.
I love and want you here with me to know it!
I will call.
I can not leave Fall without you!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Alone
There came to me softly a small wind from the sea.
And it lifted a curl as it passed by me.
But I sang sorrow and ho the heavy day!
And I sang heigho and well-away!
Again there came softly a small wind from the sea,
And it lifted a curl as it passed by me.
And still I sang sorrow and ho the heavy day!
And I sang heigho and well-away!
Once more there came softly that small wind from the sea,
And it lifted a curl as it passed by me.
I hushed my song of sorrow and ho the heavy day,
And I hushed my heigho and well-away.
Then, when I was silent, that small wind from the sea,
It came the fourth time tenderly to me;
To me, to me,
Sitting by the sea,
Sitting sad and solitary thinking of thee.
Like warm lips it touched me-that soft wind from the sea,
And I trembled and wept as it passed by me.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Because I could not stop for Death (712)
Because I could not stop for Death--
He kindly stopped for me--
The Carriage held but just Ourselves--
And Immortality.
We slowly drove--He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility--
We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess--in the Ring--
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain--
We passed the Setting Sun--
Or rather--He passed us--
The Dews drew quivering and chill--
For only Gossamer, my Gown--
My Tippet--only Tulle--
We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground--
The Roof was scarcely visible--
The Cornice--in the Ground--
Since then--'tis Centuries--and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity--
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The days have passed
The days have passed won and lost,
In a gesture copied to whatever love takes,
And memories wait to be quietly rescued,
From a lifetime of irreconcilable urges.
A worn vow parted from my heart,
And rolled into a tighter clasp,
To bind my soul still against the dying light,
Bruised with fierce tears I cannot gasp.
Perfect deeds within the obituaries,
Are as grief flown away on wings to the future,
Parting from the past like crystallite meteors,
Caught our memories and sank the waning fear.
The days have passed your home at last,
But we will always have the happy hours,
And carry each other’s secret at all cost,
In the wind and shadow that passes.
And sailed towards the isles that wait for me,
In beauty sleep the days have passed,
And the night is fast approaching eternity,
To where new life will conquer, win and lost.
poem by Gerry Legister
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Lady On A Balcony
Suddenly she steps, wrapped into the wind,
brightly into brightness, as if singled out,
while now the room as though cut to fit
behind her fills the door
darkly like the ground of cameo,
that lets a glimmer through at the edges;
and you think the evening wasn't there
before she stepped out, and on the railing
set forth just a little of herself,
just her hands, --to be completely light:
as if passed on by the rows of houses
to the heavens, to be swayed by everything.
Translated by Edward Snow
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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My Father's Garden
I remember my father as being a warm person-
A strong man in many ways always working hard so that
My mother and I could have the very best-
He passed so many years ago but
I can still hear his laughter, and recall his gentleness-
As he was always there for me-
I still can see him working in his garden
At the time we lived close to the shores of Carmel –
I can still hear the leaves upon the trees rustling in the wind,
And the peaceful rocking of the ocean waves
Soothing me as they were lapping upon the shore close by-
I will never forget the joy the flowers he had planted
Brought to him, my mother and I,
As he seemed to be lost inside a world of his own,
Transforming a yard where at one time only high grasses grew
Into a kingdom of color and beauty for everyone to perceive-
I shall never forget the rose bushes-
Yellow, pink and red blossoms in their colorful hues
Enlightening to everyone’s eyes, as they were, and fragrant as well,
In all of their delicacy;
My father passed years ago- - a terminal illness snatched away
This wonderful being – tears still come to my eyes in past memories- as
I cannot comprehend that if a god exists-
How could he have snatched life away so quickly from
A person who had such a zest for life?
I shall never forget the moment he died, how my uncle
Sat upon a chair in the bathroom with his head in his hands weeping
When my father fell to the floor at his death-
Although he has parted from this world forever, fond memories continue-
People always die but flowers keep growing and live on.
Yesterday I cut a pink rose from a bush in the yard and
Placed it in a small vase upon the end table by my bed side and
As I drifted off to sleep this delicate and lovely flower carried me
Into the world of my fantasies- where my father is still with me always, and
I still feel his loving arms embracing me; I can still hear the rustling of
Leaves upon the trees outside, and I still hear the waves lapping upon the shore
And even though in flesh he is gone-
Departed from this world, he has left valuable reminiscences for me to treasure;
Whenever I stand in his garden I can still feel his presence, as in my
Heart and spirit, he shall always be very much alive….
poem by Claudia Krizay
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In Sanctuary
THE young Spring air was strong like wine,
The sky reflected in your eyes
Was of a blue as deep-divine
As ever glowed in southern skies.
We passed from out the sunny lane
Into the green wood's shadowing;
And, sudden, all Love's words seemed vain
In that calm temple of the Spring.
Our god hears fair and tuneful words,
And splendid flowers his altars bear;
With choric song of leaves and birds,
Another god was worshipped there.
Silent, we passed the woodland, through
The coloured maze that Springtime weaves--
The light leaves dancing to the blue,
The sunlight dancing to the leaves;
I could not speak. I touched your hand
At the green arch that ends the wood:
'Ah--if she should not understand!'
Ah--if you had not understood!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Wherefore This Life
Wherefore This Life
-T.Amanyu
1, September,2008
We knew the time had come,
And the time had come, we knew,
For the grievous lords had called on us
Before on the lea had set the dew.
And I didst espy the other men go
Passing my hut and Charles’ farm too.
Through the haunts of snakes and beasts,
I watched them as they quietly did move.
‘Wherefore do ye walk’ I asked one
To be answer’d by chilly silence.
So like any other man, I from my house sprang,
And made towards the jungle dense.
We walked and walked for many days;
Still not a stain of strain dud we feel.
We passed cold nights still trudging way,
Fain forgetting our own weal.
We passed the tall thickets profound,
Where at morn beasts wild prowl.
We trod our way o’er courage and faith;
Boldly under the ogre’s growl.
Nests of dainty birds passed us,
On top of the redwoods’ high boughs;
Or rather we passed them,
In this place which no one loves.
We passed the moors and lakes immense,
And passed the birds under heaven’s eye.
We passed some blissful beasts and plants;
Thither- somewhere where one must die.
And all through my way I found,
But vain, melancholy and grief;
And then was it that I fathomed my way-
Towards a battlefield… that of life.
The battle began- the battle of life.
With no weapons, the halcyon war.
I fought bravely under depths of grief;
Till I knew I from death was not far.
And I felt myself by an arrow hit hard;
Of love which no witchcraft can erase,
The eternity whereof I’ve felt aye in my life
And now I am with death face to face.
Now I feel myself on the thorns of life,
And I bleed upon this evil time.
And then goes my soul and my life an’ my corpse;
Languidly into the hanging blue rime.
poem by Amanyu T Thulasi
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