Let Us Go To The Beach
Let us go to the beach
To weave a golden net
With the lashes,
Dive deep into the ocean,
To thieve melodious tones
Of the oysters,
To pick gust of scent
With the tender tips of fingers,
To touch the pain,
And listen to its conversation.
Let us go to the beach,
To see un-ravished petals
Of the roses
On which dewdrops cheer up
For a while then faint down.
The sand of wanderlust
Troubles the eyes,
Let us capture
The fresh moon-beams
In the fist and steal there
The seven tones from the wind.
Let us both make
An earthen house,
Though for a while,
Yet to smile heartedly.
Let us count there
Those months and years
Which have been inscribed
On the stones and dried leaves;
Let us go to the beach…..
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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The End
The affair advanced,
In such a way,
He sent me a rose,
I opened the book,
Placed amid the leaves,
And kept it hidden
From all spying eyes.
At last it happened
There remained behind,
Nothing else except,
Some dried petals, and a little
Perceptible fragrance.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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You Are Fallen In Love
When the clouds move swaying to the desert,
The roses scent the air lacerating the rocks,
The grains of sand become a galaxy,
The moon becomes envious on seeing the earth,
The waterfalls engender melodies,
Wires of the heart throb on naming someone,
All dreams awake in the dormant eyes,
Autumn begins to converse with spring,
Dusk of the evening perches on the lashes,
Silence on the lips becomes a message,
The season of intimacies begins to linger,
Then you think you are fallen in love.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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My Love Your Are My Faith
MY Love!
You are my faith,
I am a Heart
And Soul you are my Love!
You bestowed
The dreams to these eyes,
You touched
Tone of the pulsating heart,
Instilled
Scent into breath,
You unfasten
The window of thoughts,
Your touch transformed
The forehead into moon,
Then you stealthy
Stole sparkle from the beams,
Seeing which all of sudden,
The heart fluttered,
The moon smiled.
Who knows how many dreams
You showed
Till the dawn emerged,
You picked
Bafflement of the lashes.
You are the Guest of my Heart!
You are my Faith, my Love!
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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Bring Me Back My Eyes
Bring me back my eyes,
For I shall behold
All colours of the universe.
I shall captivate
The galaxies in my eyes,
And steal all colours of roses
To adorn my countenance.
I shall behold
How the pang of separation
Inscribes lines on the forehead,
How love makes
Hermits the kings,
And union fills
The eyes with stars.
I shall behold
How tears dropp
From the lashes when one weeps,
And if one laughs impulsively
How pink roses
Bloom instantly on the lips.
I shall behold
Why the snakes complain
Against the lady of night,
How the petals uncatch themselves
From the flowerer-flies,
Why the butterflies become
Gloomy seeing the flowers,
Who wrote all the mysteries
On the chest of mother Earth.
I yearn to pick
All seasons with the lashes.
O! My love,
You keep the reality with yourself,
But only once show me a dream
Though glimmering
Like a tiny glow-worm.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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Poke Not The Ashes
How pride of the dreams
Shattered in a moment!
And how the bits bled the eyes!
Who placed,
The burning coals on the tray?
Who deserted,
These wrists of yours?
Who erased
The lines of hands?
Who inscribed the pang
Of separation on the forehead?
The descending fog will blow out
The lamps of lashes;
Ah! It is not a delightful fun
To poke the ashes.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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O! December
O! December,
When you come this turn again,
Bring along,
Reports of the city,
The city that dwells in my heart.
Where glimmer galaxies
Of glow-worms,
Where spheres smile,
With the colours of butterflies,
Where all around lingers
Fragrance of faithfulness,
And that who feels it
With the finger-tips,
Or gets its glance
Becomes fragrance incarnated.
O! December,
When you come this turn again,
Bring along
Reports of the city,
The city that dwells in my heart.
Where grains of sand
Are the stars,
Where roses and nightingales,
The months and Moon
Are metaphors of truthfulness;
Where heart is an ocean
With several banks
And where the Deity of Fate
Sparkles in the fists.
O! December,
Ask us not about
The plight our own city;
Here rests in the eyes,
The dust of passed caravans,
Love is cold like an iceberg,
And grows
In the farms of sunlight,
Here when the dawn approaches,
All visions of the night melt
In the form of a thawing heap,
Here prick in the eyes,
Bits of the broken passions,
Here we weave our dreams,
By dipping lashes
In the blood of heart,
Then we live and we die
In those dreams;
Though it is not possible
To stitch words of the ragged soul,
Yet O! December,
When you come this turn again
Bring along
Reports of the city,
The city that dwells in my heart.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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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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The Wall of Sand
If it falls,
Let it fall hundreds of times,
It is useless
To make him understand,
For he shall make the wall of sand.
Sand- made is my home,
The rain is obstinate too,
It seems as if,
This will work a wonder at last.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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Love: A Gift
Love is a gift
For the Special Ones,
It is fragrance of the roses,
Shyness,
Delicacy,
Perplexity,
And tinkle of the petals
Fondness of flower fly,
Silence of the airs;
It contains,
The glimpse of moon,
The shine of stars,
Heat of the sun,
And whisper of the breeze;
Love is a gift,
For the special ones.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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No Longer With Me
There is no more,
A deep layer on the eyes,
I live no more in the fantasies,
So there is no more agony of love.
I live no more on taking and giving,
And in outline of life,
The moment that slipped away,
From the lashes of my eyes,
And from the palms of your hands,
Had been a dream since ages,
But it no longer exists.
On seeing me your bewilderment,
Is a question,
It is true I am the same and you are too,
But my heart that was fond of you,
Is no longer with me.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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Had There Been No Defeat
He said “Defeat is very deep
As deep as an ocean,
That who drowns into it,
He never emerges up,
So make conquest tradition of love.”
I said “No doubt it is a deep mystery,
But think a while,
If there had been no heart in the chest,
Where love would have been,
Had there been no defeat in life,
There would have been no existence
Of love in the world.”
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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This Exhausted Moon
This exhausted moon
Is the dream of someone’s eyes,
Those eyes which have been penalized
For being awake.
This moon is agony,
The agony which mixed into dust
In no time, the rosy moments.
This Moon is a response
Of such a question as it never
Has emerged in the mind
Of anyone even by now.
This moon is a chapter
Of some pain, of some union,
Of some separation;
If you confront him ever
Ask the exhausted moon,
Seek a reply from him,
Who caused him soreness
Who awoke him from the slumber.”
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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Have You Ever Thought
Have you ever thought,
Why the people migrate
Leaving behind their dwellings;
Any prefer to leave for the world unexplored.
Have you ever thought
How hundreds of lamps of tears enkindle
On the quivering edges of the lashes.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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I Am The Beach...
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips.
The sun began to set and the voice of the beach,
traveled across the ocean waves.
'I am the beach, and here you shall find peace.
I am the beach, here you shall find love.
In this domain, my beach, the answers you
search for, could very well be found here.
For at this beach, there is much,
that has been revealed.
The sparkled, white grains of sand, that blanket
this beach, has been a bed of comfort, to many.
Pause, as you come upon this beach, and listen
to the symphony of waves and the chorus of
birds, singing their song, as they glide in the wind.
Feel the power of this beach, as it seems to
renew your inner being. You need not question
the beach and its mystical powers. For as
millions before you have found, the beach...
and its magical transference to one...have
existed, since the beginning of time.
Be not troubled, for the beach is close at
hand. You need only to deliver your strife,
to the tranquility of the beach and it shall
be exercised from you.
When you go from this beach...leave with
the peace that you have found here.'
Under A Blanket Of Stars...
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips.
The sun began to set and the voice of the beach,
traveled across the ocean waves.
'I am the beach, and here you shall find peace.
I am the beach, here you shall find love.
In this domain, my beach, the answers you
search for, could very well be found here.
For at this beach, there is much,
that has been revealed.
The sparkled, white grains of sand, that blanket
this beach, has been a bed of comfort, to many.
Pause, as you come upon this beach, and listen
to the symphony of waves and the chorus of
birds, singing their song, as they glide in the wind.
Feel the power of this beach, as it seems to
renew your inner being. You need not question
the beach and its mystical powers. For as
millions before you have found, the beach...
and its magical transference to one...have
existed, since the beginning of time.
Be not troubled, for the beach is close at
hand. You need only to deliver your strife,
to the tranquility of the beach and it shall
be exercised from you.
When you go from this beach...leave with
the peace that you have found here.'
Under A Blanket Of Stars
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips.
The sun began to set and the voice of the beach,
traveled across the ocean waves.
'I am the beach, and here you shall find peace.
I am the beach, here you shall find love.
In this domain, my beach, the answers you
search for, could very well be found here.
For at this beach, there is much,
that has been revealed.
The sparkled, white grains of sand, that blanket
this beach, has been a bed of comfort, to many.
Pause, as you come upon this beach, and listen
to the symphony of waves and the chorus of
birds, singing their song, as they glide in the wind.
Feel the power of this beach, as it seems to
renew your inner being. You need not question
the beach and its mystical powers. For as
millions before you have found, the beach...
and its magical transference to one...have
existed, since the beginning of time.
Be not troubled, for the beach is close at
hand. You need only to deliver your strife,
to the tranquility of the beach and it shall
be exercised from you.
When you go from this beach...leave with
the peace that you have found here.'
The Power Of The Beach
As we walked along the beach, crashing waves
thundered in our ears and a light, salted mist,
dampened our lips.
The sun began to set and the voice of the beach,
traveled across the ocean waves.
'I am the beach, and here you shall find peace.
I am the beach, here you shall find love.
In this domain, my beach, the answers you
search for, could very well be found here.
For at this beach, there is much,
that has been revealed.
The sparkled, white grains of sand, that blanket
this beach, has been a bed of comfort, to many.
Pause, as you come upon this beach, and listen
to the symphony of waves and the chorus of
birds, singing their song, as they glide in the wind.
Feel the power of this beach, as it seems to
renew your inner being. You need not question
the beach and its mystical powers. For as
millions before you have found, the beach...
and its magical transference to one...have
existed, since the beginning of time.
Be not troubled, for the beach is close at
hand. You need only to deliver your strife,
to the tranquility of the beach and it shall
be exercised from you.
When you go from this beach...leave with
the peace that you have found here.'
The Season Of Separation
He inquired,
“Were all dreams shattered? ”
I responded,
“No there left some behind.”
He inquire again,
“Since when have you been conversing to yourself? ”
I responded,
“It is a gift bestowed by aloofness.”
He said,
“What have you done with bright eyes,
Rosy cheeks and golden facade? ”
I answered,
“There rests in my inner-self the season of separation.”
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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An Astrologer
He sat beside the road,
And was busy in telling the people,
What fates have been ordained,
I impulsively stopped beside him,
And inquired,
“What fortune is you own,
Do you know? ”
He became distressed,
Then he composed himself
And responded,
“Lo! How deep is creased
The line of swindling at my palm.”
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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Pity
He demanded
My eyes from me,
The black lace of lashes,
Shy rosiness of the cheeks,
All sparkle of the face,
Pinkness of the lips,
Dark night of the locks,
Golden sunlight of the forehead,
Curling hair, and ear-ring,
All grace of innocence,
Immature charm of youth,
Silvery arms,
And essence of the existence.
He demanded and I granted all,
But the secret has revealed today,
All affairs of love
And loyalty were transient,
Emotional and fleeting,
He nourished only pity for me
And not love.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar

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