Where Are You?
I have driven back my car to the porch,
But the hands resting on the steering
Would not switch off the machine.
I have returned,
But where should I go ahead in the house;
Tight are laces of my shoes,
And these gloves are dank.
Look behind awhile!
The collar of my shirt never had been
So dull, as it is now,
The knot of my tie gives off inertia of ages,
The dust of loneliness wraps me from all around,
Where are you my love? Where are you my love?
Written By Qayyum Tahir
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Speak A Bit Of That Moment
Speak a bit of that moment,
A moment that contains centuries,
A moment that halts time,
A moment when someone sees
A route leading beyond the cosmos.
Speak a bit of that moment
When water and clay mingle,
And in a moment of union,
Sprouts a bud of flower.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When eyes become a heart,
When heart becomes eyes,
A star of dream, a rain-bow
Dither on the lashes.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When the Sun places its fire
On the bank of a lake,
And water becomes gold,
Miracles begin to happen.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When Love begins to blather metaphysics
When chest becomes hollow,
And heart dwells in each particle.
Speak a bit of that moment,
When sunbeams begin to fade,
The sights become vague,
The Sun dives down into puddle,
And the forms begins to muddle,
The earth beckons,
The desire of long sleep places her fingers
On the lids of eyes,
Speak a bit of that moment,
Speak a bit of that moment.
Written By Qayyum Tahir
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Rain Of Memories
The rain of memories,
Rains incessantly,
Even though leaves of dream,
Break, crack creakingly;
All birds of hope one by one
Have become annoyed.
O! My love, come back soon
Lest this heart
Should change into barren-land.
Written by Saamee Aejaz Translated by Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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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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After You Had Gone
Only a little happened
At last
After you had gone,
Love, fondness, faith and trust,
Erased themselves
From the pages of dictionary
Of my life, in such a way
As they never had been there.
Written by Saamee Aejaz Translated by Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am A Bride-groom Of War Procession (A War Poem)
Youth
Is the natural right
Of my innocent children.
War
Claims a part of my age;
My back is destined not to become a bow,
Death has built a nest in my chest;
And dread
Travels though my bones,
These my young and warm hands,
Which had been kissed more than often,
By my beloved women
Now are marked by death.
I wish that before my death,
I could take my aged mother in my lap;
Ah! No one is there to shed tears
On the death of Happiness.
I am a Bride-groom of war procession,
Radiation will apply Surma to my eyes,
At the very moment,
Life on my cheeks will die down,
My shoes will sleep in mud prostrate,
And the rags of my shirt,
Will cover nudity of any half-burnt tree.
(Written by Jawaaz Jafri Translated by Muhammad Shanazar)
Surma: A black stone ground into powder which is applied to blacken the eyes.
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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What Are The Wages Of Labour Journey
My so-called friends you dawdle
Having in hands,
Khaiwat, Khasra, Latha and Gardawari,
Your Jareeb is not long enough to measure,
The length two farms which my father
Tilled walking and walking behind yokes of oxen,
Placing his hands on the handle of plough,
The same hands harder than stones.
Walking and walking behind yokes of oxen,
He measured more than half of the world,
But you would not sense gashing pain
Of his lacerated heels.
My mother too while bringing on the farms,
Lasi and bread, and carrying bundles of grass,
Got her feet worn out, got her neck twisted.
While measuring, totaling these two farms
The Jareeb of my and your breath would finish
But the labour-journey of my father
In ten vegas of land would not cease.
Khaiwat: A unit of land comprising on khatoonies, Khasras, smaller units.
Latha: A map of lands prepared by Revenue Department on white cotton cloth.
Jareeb: a measurement comprising on ten pieces of chains each is called Karam, and one Karam is equal to 5.5 feet.
Gardawari: Official record of ownership of lands prepared after four years.
Vega: A piece of land measuring four kanal.
Written By Qayyum Tahir
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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An Incentive
Alas! Some strange dream,
In their colourless lives,
Should raise such a tempest,
As your love,
Fused into my blood,
And keeps me in fervour,
Enkindles my heart,
Places my entire self in commotion,
Provides me with the cause to live,
And titivates my face like a moon.
Written by Sabina Riffat
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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You Never Loved
You had no experience of love,
If loved why you didn’t ask
From paths about the destination,
You might have written
Any message on the gusts of wind,
Why didn’t you search for the name,
Written on stems of the trees.
You might have remembered,
Fragrant roses soaked in the cold dew,
And the moment
When you touched my colourful Anchal,
We conversed about butterflies
And glowworms, and sometimes
Sketched hearts on the paper-boat
By pouring out the words of dream.
You might have remembered,
Valiancy of the flower-fly
And opening of the buds into petals.
Did you ever love? If you loved,
You could never forget all these affairs.
No my love, you did not love,
You might have seen love,
You might have thought for love,
You might have wished for love,
But you never loved at all….
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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My Dear People
How long my dear people,
How long we shall sprinkle essence of rose,
And smoulder fragrant contents.
How long we shall burn grates of hatred,
And how long we shall pour down
The rain of blood,
How long we shall light up lamp on the graves,
How long we shall strew flowers
On the graves of friends,
How long we shall make graves of our kids,
And how long we shall bury our bodies alive.
Now my dear people, my own people,
We shall not contrive ditches,
In the upcoming days;
We shall not extinguish our existence,
And our faces radiant like candles,
We shall not erase glowing names carved
On entrance of the heart,
We shall not en-kindle such lamps
As they may turn our houses into ashes.
Now my dear people, my own people,
Facilitate life confined in the walls of our own;
Mark difference,
Who is our own and who is an outlandish,
Why should we chase delusions,
Why should we tire our own souls,
This earth is the mother of us all,
We should be proud of it,
Why should we harm ourselves,
While fighting for the interests of others,
Why should we perforate our own eyes,
With the arrows of our own,
And why should we desolate our own existence.
If the strength of our own arms is true,
We should be proud of it,
We have to divert the track of waters,
And change dormant origins into gurgling fountains,
We have to make desolate, the house of plotters,
We have to search for the perpetual enemy,
We have to bless the descending generations,
And we have to bless ourselves too.
Written By Qayyum Tahir
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let Us Confess
O! My love,
Separation of centuries
Ensued between us,
But the son of love
Still shines in the heart.
Though we parted
Yet remained loving;
Let us confess that we dwell
In the heart of each other.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
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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You Enjoy Yourself Immunity
Rob us of
Whatever you like,
Deprive us of
Whatever you wish,
Slay them
Whom you like to butcher,
For since long
We have mortgaged
Our self-esteem.
Come!
Rag, rip our self-respect,
But just
You do so as I plead,
Leash more
Our bound hands,
With the cords
Of currency notes,
For their rustle
Make us deaf, blind.
Come!
Perforate the chest
Of whom you desire,
We dwell
In the abyss of disgrace,
Where we adore
The stench of burning flesh,
Besides,
Why you should be afraid of,
For you enjoy yourself,
Immunity
Written By Sajid Husain Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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