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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Forgot Me at Last
In the despised season,
In the dripping drops of blood,
Only awakens sadness.
I read somewhere
Or heard someone,
It happens that this sadness
Being indifferent and heedless
Nips all of sudden,
Delicate buds of memories.
Hearken!
My heart goes through a fear
Lest you should forget me,
Lest it should happen in such a season.
O! My love,
This was that I said to you,
But happened the same
You forgot me at last.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Separation Weeps
Those who break up relations,
Perhaps forget,
They meet by embracing,
Each season all alone,
But they weep not alone.
On becoming restless,
Saddened and impatient,
Separation itself,
Accompanies them in wailing.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Do You Seek?
What do you seek
In between lines of hand?
What do you seek
In these trifles?
Why do you entangle yourself?
He who is destined to meet,
Begins to walk on the path of life,
With out beholding lines of fate;
And then never departs.
He that is not in the fate,
We never obtain,
And never goes along.
What do you seek
In between lines of hands?
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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