The Last Day Of Life On The Earth
The womb
Of the earth is bleeding,
Perhaps
The last day of life on this
Planet has reached;
The same day, when
The air will begin to simmer;
And the space
To quench its thirst will gulp
The seven seas.
War
Is constantly in our chase,
Let us to save our lives
Should flee to the Mars.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri 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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Difference Between God and Man
The world,
God created
In full six days,
Man is competent
To destroy it
In six minutes.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Denizen Of An Ill-fated Planet (A War Poem)
From the womb of life,
Smoke is squirting up,
The tempest of war
Is about to extinguish
The flame of life.
I am a denizen of the same ill-fated planet!
Our back again inclines to bend;
And the slithering era,
Again bends upon to dominate us all.
Dread
Hatred
And violence have snatched from us
All compassion: an essence of humanity;
And we have thrown
Dreams of generations
Into the furnace of war.
Now our faces bear only sockets,
Void of eyes.
Ah! We are heading towards a forest!
In search of beautiful dawn,
That will never see the sunrise time,
Death will invade us instantly;
And that day,
After every second,
Will be the World War Third.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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From Behind The Moon
On seeing
From behind the moon,
The lines drawn
On face of the earth,
Are invisible.
Boundaries,
Are the leaching eruptions
On belly of the Earth.
My eyesight goes through
A dismal pain,
On seeing wretched activities
In the world.
I am fortunate
Enough that I am alive,
But astonished how alive I am.
My tomorrow is in my hands,
And there lies,
An obligation of survival
On my shoulders;
I am in a search to find out,
A secure spot
On the surface of the Earth.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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How Will The Earth Look When Lifeless?
We from inward
Have negated violence,
And acknowledged,
From the core of heart,
The glory of creation;
And in a magnificent gathering,
We have pledged,
To render responsibility,
For the survival of life
And the earth;
But to obtain peaceful environment
We have transformed,
Nuclear weapons into home-industry;
For we think that preparations
Of wars only bear peace.
Alla din of Death
Having the magical lamp in hands,
Is fluttering over our heads;
And the earth is listening
To the sound of time creeping in us.
Life has made up her mind
To migrate from the earth.
How will the Earth look when lifeless?
Who will be here to witness after all?
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Poem In 7000AD
(1)
In a city of the footpaths,
More than everything are the houses of God,
And at every door of the house,
It is inscribed in the ink of hatred,
“Only the people of a specific sect
Are allowed here to offer the prayers.”
(2)
After some times,
The earth will gulp into the belly,
The same city divided in blocks,
On its place the earth will bring forth,
A new fertile city whose inhabitants
Will not obtain food
From the heaps of muck.
(3)
After five thousand years,
An old archeologist,
In shadow of the drowning sun,
Will discover again,
The same buried city;
And on the chipped worn out stone
Of the ruined worship house,
Will be an inscription
In a mysterious language
And he after having read it
With troublesome attempt,
Will say with a tone of certainty
To his beloved peering into her eyes
“Definitely such cities as this was
Had no right to exist on the Earth.”
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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An Army Ensnares My Dream
A dream chases me,
I always seed the forests
Of olive in the dream,
So that the inhabitants
May breathe fresh air,
And could live natural length life.
A dream chases me,
And an army ensnares my dream;
Now my dream has begun
Peeping out of my eyes.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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An Elegy Of The Earth
I before my death,
Have composed,
An elegy of the Earth,
Which (after war)
Roodali of the Air will sing,
Weeping and wailing,
Sitting amid the burnt
Decomposed bodies.
The Decree of Death
Has been written,
On the pale forehead of the Earth;
Only time is to be fixed.
We are neither afraid of death,
Nor covetous for life,
We only wish to relish in full,
Our natural life before the final ruin,
And it is our right too.
If war is indispensable,
We shall fight it only for our existence,
For our dreams are not
The fuel for the wars being fought on rent.
‘Roodali’ is a professional woman whom the elite class of the Sikhs hires to lament on the death of someone.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri 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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I Am Faithful To The Earth
Listen!
There grows a magic,
In the farms of my eyes,
Of curiosity of the alien directions.
There descends,
The food on my ears of unheard sounds,
And my feet have to stamp their prints
On the un-ravished dust
Of some un-reflected planet.
My nose is alive with an urge
To inhale fragrance of some alien soil,
And tongue is fasting with a yearn
To taste the dithering juicy fruit
Of shadowy trees rooted in the fertile soil
Of some unexplored planet.
From the Earth to space, I have to lay
A network of the radiant routes.
I have come to you after dowelling
My defiant horse of brilliance;
And placing my feet in its poppers
To ride on its saddled back is my dream;
I know that often dreams grow
On the tassels of impossibilities.
I have to scatter the seed of life,
In the celestial regions of the universe,
Sitting on the horse of brilliance,
For life is unaided and in the claws of death.
I am faithful to the Earth
O! My beloved speak,
“Would you accompany me? ”
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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In The Clutches Of Death
War
Is a mutiny against life
And civilization.
I am loyal to both
Life and peace,
But forced to live
In the shadow of death.
Those who defeated the armies,
Can not defeat wars.
I am in the clutches death,
And all doors
Of deliverance are slammed.
A few warriors have made hostage
The whole humanity.
“Peace and friendship are incompatible”
Is only war viable?
The army
Is busy is bent upon to slam for us
The door of future.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Knock
Ere the weapons,
Dispose us all, we should
Dispose the weapons.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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My Asia
My Asia!
You have the fever of 105,
That is why its intensity is roasting the world.
I am looking
The War adorns
Your forehead with galaxies,
The archeologists see
Your hustling bustling cities
With ferocious looks,
And there creep into your streets foot-sounds
Of the grave-diggers.
The Harbingers of Peace
(After war)
For the tenders of your renovation
Are growling at one another.
I have to save your children
And your songs
From being trampled beneath the tanks.
My Asia!
I am an inhabitant of the era of War,
And embarrassed on being a human.
Though I am all alone
And empty-handed,
Yet I am an ambassador
Of Life
Beauty and Freedom.
I have come into the world to ward off
The War pounding at your threshold,
But I am continuously ashamed.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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My Inner-self Is Dead Since Long
The bargain of peace,
Does not award commission;
All favour death,
But I am compelled to beg,
Donations of life,
From the weapons.
Despite we went through
Half a century of trials,
We could not learn from our environ.
The life is changing its costume,
The destiny has proclaimed
That the cockroaches will govern the earth.
My inner-self is dead since long,
War will dispose my corpse,
I am the song whom my contemporaries
Are scared to compose.
The training areas touch our abodes,
We generation to generation
Are the guardians of white elephants.
Someone should pick,
A chew of love from my heart,
To dropp it into hearts of the rulers.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Next Poem In The Prison
The seed of war grows well,
On the farm of hatred;
I abhor wars,
Though my victory be certain;
I abhor enforced exodus,
And the camps too,
The camps peep out of my eyes,
I am in search of
Absolute peace and liberty,
My search winks at me.
I am with peace,
And my fate is isolation,
I shall write,
The next poem in the prison.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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On The First Anniversary Of Nuclear Explosions
The pitcher of the Earth
Has got emptied
The water-bags of eyes
Of the damsels going to the fountains
Have dried;
Un-kissed kisses of the damsel of Thur
From the yellow branch of lips
Shed one by one.
The farms
Where my ploughmen seeded Life
Now Death is getting its roots deeper.
On the chest of the Earth
The crops of sores wave,
And half dead colonies: villages and towns
Are sitting on the brims of grave,
Hanging the feet down,
Gilding eyes with a hope of last ablutions.
Those who fight on the front thirst
Their weak eyes gaze at the supply of rain;
In the season of migration,
Greenery and the birds,
Have surpassed the human beings.
The bowls of dried fountains
Far and near are lying turned up;
And on the paths leading to the founts,
The jingles of anklets and bangles
Are lying dead, un-graved, without coffins.
The giggles of children
Left away one by one in the chase of water,
And a thirsty-river
On the paper of sand
Is composing an elegy of Water.
On the forehead of the Earth,
Thirst is inscribed for the descending generations,
Ah! The water of our eyes has dried.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Journey Irritates My Soles
Give me
The wages of my hands,
So that I could dig the earth.
I have dug a canal of milk,
And consumed myself for you;
Keeping nothing reserved for myself.
I accept not
The guidance of my own belly,
I am lavishing my days hurriedly,
The world
Is lying under my heels,
Wheezing, panting for the last breath,
I have sheltered myself in my fist,
I am latent keeping the bundle
Of my dreams beneath my head.
Journey irritates my soles,
Here bellies of the people
Scuttle ahead faster than the feet,
But I have cut asunder
My belly and left it far behind.
In my gardens the birds are reducing,
In the sky of my share a holocaust is inscribed,
The lap of my Earth is going to be desolate soon.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Poem For Atal Bihari Vajpayee
My Enemy!
Have you forsaken reading
The writes on the hems of petals
With the hands of dew?
Doesn’t the smile
On the flowery faces of your children
Knock at the door of your heart?
In my hatred,
Have you discarded Woman and Fragrance?
Have you learnt like me
To prefer Death to Life and Peace?
My Enemy!
We both are the weaponed passengers,
Of the same boat, floating
Into the ocean of boundless spaces.
Our interests are different
But catastrophe is the same;
Our follies are making the dreams infertile,
Of the generations,
Who will step into the world henceforth.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Song On Resurgence Of The Earth
War
Begins with the tears,
And peace with smiles.
Peace
Is an enslaved damsel that the warriors:
The guardians of peace captured
And imprisoned her
Amid the walls by force.
What type of life this is,
That the thought of death
Never releases us even for a moment;
Upon my colonies falls
Depression from the sky,
And in dread,
The breasts of mothers have dried.
In my infertile land
Peace does not grow;
It is a an indoor plant
Of the land of the descending Sun
Which is exported to favourite countries
And so is earned the foreign exchange.
The deprived people,
Like us can not afford peace;
For us life is harder than the war,
But life in the clutches of death,
Is demanding its own right.
Come!
Let us compose a new song,
On resurgence of the Earth.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Peace And Love For Me Are Forbidden
Peace and love for me
Are forbidden,
I have been entrusted
The national responsibility,
To show my hatred
To the environment,
Which I am rendering
With utmost sincerity and patriotism.
There dwells fear in my eyes
And my feet are prison bound,
I am being kept away
from light and fresh air.
I am an inhabitant of such a city,
As is destined to be ruined.
In my infertile soil
The plant of freedom
Does not deepen its roots.
I am in a condition like at war,
I was born on the saddle of a steed
And I was first fed
With an edge of a sword,
That made my tongue acidic,
I want to sputter it out.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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