Shamshan Ghot
When the Sun hides countenance
Behind the black shawl,
All of sudden the city of night
Awakes with a poisonous turn,
It begins to glimmer like heavenly bodies,
And on the measured beats of drums,
And tinkles of anklets,
Begin to sway in the air, the tinted Anchals.
Geeta, Roshi, Amereeta, and Chanda dancers,
In the herd of obstinate jingles
Dance as step feet of a peacock,
On the tones Tha Tha, Thi Thi,
They strut, twist in pride,
And after showing,
The glimpse of heartiness,
Beautify and elegance,
Making the bodies bows and arrows,
And embellishing lips with fake smiles,
Dance amid the rain
Of brand new currency noted.
There surmounts all around
The noise of unabashed guests,
The chief-whore chewing the betel leaves,
Glints up the right brow,
She is cheerful with the prettified eyes.
Think awhile!
Isn’t it a Shamshan Ghot, of womanhood,
Her Ego and reverence,
Respect and deference?
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
Notes: Shamshan Ghot: a place where the Hindus dispose of dead bodies.
Tha Tha, Thi Thi: the tones upon which the professional dancers dance.
Anchal: a piece of light thin cloth used by the women to cover heads.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Related quotes
Hear Me!
Hear me!
I have to say you something,
“After spreading colours on my face,
Showing dreams to my eyes,
Touching with talks pulsation of my heart,
Filling my hem with a galaxy,
Overspreading my head with an Anchal of faith,
Become not disloyal to depart again.”
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dance, Dance, Dance
After six hours of school Ive had enough for the day
I hit the radio dial and turn it up all the way
I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beats really hot) right on the spot
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beats really hot
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
When I feel put down I try to shake it off quick
With my chick by my side the radio does the trick
I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beats really hot) right on the spot
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beats really hot
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
Ohby!
At a weekend dance we like to show up late
I play it cool when its slow and jump it when its fast
I gotta dance (dance dance dance now the beats really hot) right on the spot
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
The beats really hot
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
Dance (dance) dance (dance) dance (dance) yeah!
(dance dance dance now the beats really hot)
(dance dance dance right there on the spot)
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Is Love
Love exits since beginning!
Beyond the string of words,
But is a reality.
Love in the firmament of thoughts,
In the guise of clouds,
Always flutters, soars high,
Sometimes contracted into the drops of rain,
Impinges, scatters on the land of heart.
Taking delicacies from the breeze,
And fragrance from the roses,
Colours from the rainbow,
Light from the stars,
Weave a beautiful Anchal,
And from the same Anchal adorns,
Mud-made houses.
Love throws into trials,
Sometimes becoming poetry,
Enhances deference of the words,
Sometimes becoming a tune,
Hums gradually,
It becomes an incarnated eye,
After getting the beloved one,
A strange touch it becomes,
In the alley of the most adored.
Who knows what kind
Of magical utterances it utters,
And hurriedly descends into the close eyes
Of someone with out a knock,
And makes a residence.
Love smiles,
It is a fragrance,
Always abodes in the breath of blossoms,
Such a light it is,
As it turns into moon the dark nights,
And permanent pang it contains,
That has Indescribable tang,
The definition of Love is that it is Love.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have To Say Something
I have to say something,
When you depart, go afar from me,
A dark shawl of depression
From somewhere,
Who knows, how befalls on my head.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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 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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Catatonica
As our duet of love, a performance shown, is put upon display for vulgar eyes on the floor; the lights change with painted overlooks splashing their palette of watercolours over our moving bodies.
To the beat we dance, our tune a virgin, for the tune's beat that we dance to is no longer a mere dance away, our dance must fly with this tune in time with the tune's beat and in beat with our dance that we synced to this tune.
We tune our bodies in, tune them perfectly together with not just the beat and our dance, but with each other's minds and each other's hearts.
Within our thin, weak, skinny minds our thoughts think their own thoughts, deeper within our thought's tune and beat it dances inside a caved-in thought of the thinking tune's rhythmic beat timing itself to our dance.
Matching in the sky, our steps amaze, no tune can support us on its waves of notes and colons and no beat can out-beat us in it's own tragedy of percussion.
Our dance is a shaman of ritual love, packaged under the moon's eye for all to see and admire in its own tunefully-beating-dancing light.
We are going to dance forever, dance until there's no dance left in us, dance until our blood mixes with each others and our soul's diseases decay with one another's and we become the dance.
The tune we create in our minds is that of purity, no one will hear this tune except for us. Me and You.
The beats will never fade, no stamp stopped too sincerely, no stomp slacking too slowly.
We're going to dance, we're going to dance, we're going to dance. We're going to dance to our own beat, to our own tune, and to our own love.
poem by April Abigail
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December When You Turn Again
O! December,
When you turn again this year,
You bring along
The news of the city which I long for.
The city
Where galaxies glimmer of glowworms,
Where the spheres beam
With the colours of butterflies,
Where all-around is the aroma
Of faithfulness.
That one who touches it,
Either with glance, or with fingertips,
Became perfumed for a while.
O! December,
When you turn again this year,
You bring along
The news of the city which I long for,
The city where grains of sand are stars,
The rose and the nightingale,
The moon and the stars,
Are the metaphors of faithfulness,
Where the heart is an ocean,
And gets several banks,
Where the goddess of fortune
Glimmers in the close palms.
O! December,
Ask us not the plight of our city,
Here eyes are grimed
With the dust of caravan passed by,
Here love is like an iceberg,
And grows on the farms of sunlight,
Here when the dawn emerges,
The exhausted dreams of night
Are dumped and begin to thaw,
Here splinters of broken passion
Prick in the eyes, here we weave
Golden dreams by dipping
Lashes into the blood of hearts,
Then live and die
Amid those fascinations.
Though it is impossible to stitch
The tattered soul yet,
O! December do come and bring along,
The news of the city which I long for.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Dance With Me Tonight
Let your hair sway in the rain, let rain drops fall to the ground in harmony.
Let us dance tonight
Let your feet sway, let your eyes close tight.
Let us dance tonight
Let your fears fade, let your clothes feel like silk.
Let us dance tonight
Let only our sweet breaths be heard in this serenity.
Let us dance tonight
Let our feet brush the ground with such elegance.
Let us dance tonight
Let us scream and shout, let us twirl in the night.
Dance with me tonight
Let us caress and cherish this moment for all eternity.
Let us dance tonight
Let the end feel good, let our fright fade…Let me be happy tonight.
Take my hand, dance with me tonight.
poem by Victoria Waylett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burlesque
Burlesque
~
Sequins shimmer in the lights
While music builds a sensual rhythm
The move and sway of the dance
As the ladies begin to hypnotize
A celebration of the female form
In all of its beauty the eyes are held
Watching intent as the show unfolds
The smile and the look upon the stage
How the dancers enjoy their play
The little sway of the hips
As they turn and twist the audience
The strut in their stride tells
This is after all their night
One to which they knew belonged
To the evocative and sensual
To all that is beautiful
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Village Of Deceptions
The world O! Friend,
Is a village of deceptions,
No deference is observed
Behind the pardas.
This is the place where we meet
Losses but not the truth.
O! Friend speak caring least
The difference of ‘I’ and ‘You’,
Here marital pleasures
Of all are robbed off.
Do not press your tongue,
Between the teeth, for your silence
Holds a storm in it.
The world in itself without you,
Is nothing, proclaim aloud
That it has severed you
Only with the fever of love.
Written By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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If Love Gets Annoyed
Faithfulness,
When gets over the shawl
Of compromise,
And assumes,
The shape of Winter,
It descends in the patio of heat.
It smiles like a bow of stars
Hanging on the lashes,
And sometimes it gives
An unsmelt perfume,
Of the untouchable figures
Of dreams.
When the chains
Of countless moments spent
Along someone endeared,
Begin to jingle in the mind,
Silence at once cries
On the cable of breath;
It seems as if gusts of winds,
Come to whisper.
O! My Friend,
Now you might have realize,
The true nature of love;
Whatever wounds it imparts,
It never allows to stitch
And if love gets annoyed
It dose not allow to be alive.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Giving Hope A Chance...
we are assured about the sound
of drum beats
from all the continents of the world
so assuring
that hope has given birth to more children
of hopes
the women dance and the men beat the drums
the children watch for a while
and liking the sounds of these drums beating
slowly then wildly and then
contagiously exciting
the children begin to clap their hands
and step their toes
sway their bodies
and sing the songs of hope
again
the world spins
the universe sways and gives birth to another star
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Dance dance dance
Dance in the moon light with,
All the stars in sight
Dance to the smiles
Dance in the shadows my love
Dance dance dance.
You may think I'm crazy
I'd dance in the moonlight
I'll dance when I want to
Please let me dance
Dance dance dance
Dancer take my hand to your,
Hand
I need to dance
Close your blue eyes,
Hold me in your arms and,
Dance dance dance.
poem by Maria Luisa Taylor
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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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Dance To The Music
Dance to the music
Dance to the music
All we need is a drummer for people who only need a beat. yeah
Im gonna add a little guitar and make it easy to move your feet
Im gonna add some bottom so that the dancers will twist all night
You might like to hear my organ I said my kind of bag now.
If I could hear the horns blow sitting here on the ground listen to me
Dance to the music
Dance to the music
Written by sly and the family stone (c) 1968 daly city music co. reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Head Bows Before The Quill
In the dale of death,
I have taken the risk of favouring life,
I have been entrusted an obligation
To contemplate,
Amid those who have apathy against thinking;
It is just like to enkindle fire
With stones in the snow fall.
The leading heads are betrothed
To blemish countenance of the Earth,
And my head
Only bows before the quill.
I resting my feet on a heap of explosives
Have raised my hands for prayers,
The birds,
With hopeful eyes are looking at
The extended nest of my hands.
Written by Dr. Jawaz Jaffri translated by Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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My Bar Dance
My Bar Dance
ha! ha! !
In my bar dance
Perpetual is romance
People from home and France
In dancer's eyes spirituality glance
ha! ha! !
It is an eternal dance
It's not a game of chance
You fall in love at first glance
Vast its dancing floor's expanse
ha! ha! !
In dance the divinity glitters
In dancers drink bowls no bitters
The dancers' lives without jitters
Their hearts are divine transmitters
ha! ha! !
Come and join my bar dance
This Christmas joyous trance
poem by C.P. Sharma
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