Spectacle Of The New World
Written By Sughra Sadaf
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
I urge for the rainy season,
And joining of the hearts,
The wet soggy nights;
And whispering in silence.
The moon be in the sky,
And I in your company wishing
For the beams being rained
From all sides around,
Breaths be packed with perfume,
And all colours enter into
The threshold of eyes.
There would be honeyed tones,
And broken all walls of hatred amid
The steady secured spectacles,
And all around be worshipped
The Deity of Love,
And life be a fruitful endeavour,
Hopes reside in the eyes,
And words of good wishes on the lips.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Season
Written By Sughra Sadaf
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
Since you have altered you looks,
It is strange they have changed
The season of my inner-self.
The stars of my eyes,
The spell of my words,
Fragrance of my breath,
They have been taken away
From me, my all assets.
Now you do not come in springs,
And in autumns you make me eager,
I don’t know why it happens
In the patio of my inner-self,
There is a static season of autumn,
Sometimes it comes from this way,
And sometimes encroaches from that side.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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An Effort
Written By Sughra Sadaf
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
The moon your face,
The night your locks,
Your eyes the ocean,
Your voice the spell
Your breath the fragrance,
I have regarded.
Lo! What a kind of wonder
I have performed.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Reaction
Written By Sughra Sadaf
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
He who regards me a half being,
He must know at least,
How much complete he is.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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There Exists Someone Around
Written By Sughra Sadaf
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
There is someone around,
As hard as a rock,
But invisible as wind;
I can neither see Him nor hold,
Nor He has any shadow.
Sometime He seems like a dark cloud,
That often surrounds my entity,
And supports my hand
By not letting them down,
Someone props when I uplift
Them for a prayer.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Cuscuta
Written By Sughra Sadaf
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
Some unknown pangs
Gripped, caught my giant like existence,
All gloom of the world has contracted
In my inner-self; but it all happened
In such a way that all springs of your love,
And showers of your fondness,
Altogether
Can not remove my pangs at all,
Can not recover me from pain at all,
But you must know there waits yet behind,
Remedy of your spitefulness.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Dream Of Some Other Soil
The sky of my own share
Has wreathed Himself
With the cover of monotony;
And my eyes,
In the azure page of the sky
Has written boredom
In the eye-sight.
Now these eyes,
Dream of some other soil,
Some other season,
Somewhere here around
In the neighbourhood of my Earth,
There lays some hidden route
That I seek for,
And waits for inaugural gathering,
For some unseen world.
Written by Dr. Jawaz Jaffri translated by Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Bare Truth
Written By Sughra Sadaf
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
Wilderness of your eyes,
Desertedness of your countenance,
From your physic, your structure
And repentance of my heart,
All are confessing altogether,
That it is a bare truth, we are faithless,
I tormented you, I made you weep,
And in response you remained loyal,
Ah! But I disregarded you.
My conscience: the voice of my hart,
Whispers that all rulers,
All despots, small and giant
Yes all made you weep,
They all will come back to you again,
They all who gamed with you,
Made you toy, now played then broke,
Now plundered then sold,
I see now the patches of your garden,
Dull and drab, and body week and frail.
O! My country how I should see you
In miserable plight.
O! Motherland you have a tale of love;
There had been times when scarifies
Were the ornaments of your forehead
But now strange are the reversions,
We have forsaken you by diverting our face,
In the love of rivals, and we all are the witness,
That it is a truth, a bare truth, “We are faithless.”
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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An Epitaph Of A Collective Grave
Human race,
On soggy lath of its fate,
Writes suicide.
The window of my eye,
Opens to the future.
For the lap of my Earth,
An epitaph of a collective grave
Is being written;
On the head-side of which
A dried lamp is looking to the way
For mustard of its own share.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Punishment of Hurriedness
I have been deployed
To attend upon the three of life,
In the prolific branches
Of which are perching
Avaricious crows.
I fastening stones of inaccessibility,
On the belly am living on the breaths
Of my own share.
My body,
Is an impediment on the path of my life,
On the slates of my eyes there reveal
Such songs as readers of which are waiting
For the moment of their own creation.
I am gathering harvest of punishment
Against hurriedness of my birth,
My genuine life will commence
After my death.
Written by Dr. Jawaz Jaffri translated by Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Poem Of Love
I feel as if your eyes have housed in mine,
My eyes which were desert, where
The desire to grow did not find the route,
Now there dance thick shadows of flagons.
My eyes which were thirsty,
Like some cracked clay,
In the smouldering sunlight,
Now scattered are there
The colours of clouds and rainbow.
My eyes had a forest, where shadows
Of suspicion were long and thick,
Where the beams reverted
Before they descended, now there blossom
Sweet scented flowers of all colours.
My eyes contained lakes,
Where no track was visible in moss and marsh,
There fall several lotuses from your neckline,
They sway and show numerous paths.
My eyes bore the Sun,
Each spectacle of green tassels,
Clothed itself the costume of autumn.
There now exist extensive shades
Of spreading branches,
And I sleep a luxurious slumber.
My eyes had a river,
A river that gurgled eroding the banks,
There now glimmer a star of sail.
We have to enkindle a candle across the bank,
Upon my lashes shines a smiling lamp,
Your name emerges upon my lips impulsively,
As if your eyes have made an bode
In the self of my inner existence.
Written By Qayyum Tahir
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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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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A Treasure
Packed in an old trunk,
Beneath the worn-out garments,
And the torn pieces of paper,
Amid the charms and devices of spell,
In a rusty box of metal,
Beneath the fading photograph,
The coloured silky sari that lies
There with a red golden lace,
And glistening stars,
Is dearer than the soul,
For an unfortunate aged woman.
Written by Naina Adil
Translated by
Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Make a Search
Search in the world of eyes,
Yes those eyes,
Where your reflection lives,
Where the moon and the star shimmer,
Where flickers a real lamp of true love,
Beholding of which descends
Brilliance inward and out all around.
Search in the world of eyes,
Perhaps you might find the eyes,
But be heeded,
Lest in search of those eyes,
You should lose your own.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Half Century, Three And Half Wars
Half Century,
Three and half wars.
Our past is our future,
We have not denounced plying
With the mistakes of each other.
My body is the fodder of war,
An in front of my eyes wafts
My decomposed burnt corpse.
I am a song of those tongues
Which have been pulled out of the roots.
My hearing is being eroded
Waiting to listen to the arrival of good tidings.
Armed Forces
Pour into porches of my ears
The lead of Epic,
And Peace,
Has been flinging down exertion,
Into my eyes since centuries.
My Dreams
Deepen roots into my own soil,
In my possession,
I do not have any palace
In Europe.
My dear land that is being enslaved
Is my last abode.
I cultivate my own dreams,
Into the eyes of my own kids.
I urge for the life of peace,
And natural death.
How long we shall neglect our
The most fervent wishes?
At last
We shall have to place out
Our feet from the worn out
Torn shoes.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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It Is Time To Come Into Senses
O! Friend these gallant eyes,
These pretty limbs of body,
This splendid structure,
On which the world is astonished.
Are ordained to be decomposed.
Here pain of love is shocking
No I but the whole world declares it so
O! Friend this love is nondescript
It always deprives one of crown and throne
On all sides around it rules.
O! Friend do not cherish frivolous hopes
No one gets flowers here but thorns
Do not run behind the shadows,
O! My friend.
It is time to come into senses.
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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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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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
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Smoke Is Rising From The Branch Of Olive
War
Is impending over our heads,
And Alla Din of Death,
Having the lamp in his hands,
Is waiting for a signal.
Smoke is rising
From the branch of olive,
To see the blind,
The useless,
And the heap of broken bodies,
Is the fate of our eyes.
I am seeding the flowers,
Life, freedom, and peace.
“Peace through war” is the game
Of weapon merchants,
The powers at war have brutal relation
With one another.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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