POEMS FOREVER
By Mirza Ghalib
Not the blossoming of songs nor the adornments of music:
I am the voice of my own heart breaking.
You toy with your long, dark curls
while I remain captive to my dark, pensive thoughts.
We congratulate ourselves that we two are different:
that this weakness has not burdened us both with inchoate grief.
Now you are here, and I find myself bowing—
as if sadness is a blessing, and longing a sacrament.
I am a fragment of sound rebounding;
you are the walls impounding my echoes
Translation/interpretation
by Michael R. Burch
By Abid Agha
In search of precious pearls,
I visit the beach each day.
Hunting for seashell treasures,
From one end to the other.
Persisting in this rhythmic quest,
Until the sun gracefully sets.
And the evening’s gray banners,
Unfurl across the sandy expanse.
Sea gulls form an orderly procession,
Winging their way to their haven.
Floating ships and boats aglow,
Illuminate the tranquil seascape.
The tender caress of cool tides
Lures me from my reverie,
And reluctantly, I retreat, homeward bound,
With empty hands and bare feet.
By Mashaal Farid
So I sat on this couch, with some coffee, holding a pen and paper
To write a blooming ballad
On colorful evenings...
Of chirping birds,
Of the blossoms of buds.
But my vision blurred and all it allowed me to see was:
The crippling leaves,
The hushing trees.
And...
My instinct screams
The autumn still isn’t drained out
It has set its roots deep and built its kingdom of woe
And so can you,
Not able to have your very own lyrics upon spring.
Rumaissa Xaenub Chouhan
Her eyes are a window to the seas of sufferings
Her face is a muse, her presence, brightening
Her heart coloured in the shades of green and yellow
Even in the face of darkness, she is brave yet mellow
Her love strengthens, her touch excites
She gives life like the sun and starlight
She lives as a warrior, is not the weakest link
She can paint the skies grey and pink
She embraces the scars and keeps the pain
Like the phoenix she burns, and gets up again
Not an easy task to hinder her path
For even if she is gentle, one fears her wrath
Without her, the moon doesn’t shine, the birds don’t sing
For the beauty of the universe, she is the spring
She is a wife, a mother, a sister, and a daughter
House becomes home, when there is her laughter
Compiled by SK
