French language is a treasure trove of beautiful poetry. Enjoy the translation of Demain dès l'aube by Victor Hugo...
Poems forever
French language is a treasure trove of beautiful poetry. Enjoy the translation of Demain dès l'aube by Victor Hugo...
Tomorrow, at dawn
Tomorrow, at dawn, at the hour when the countryside whitens,
I will depart. You see, I know you wait for me.
I will go through the forest and over the mountains.
I cannot stay far from you any longer.
I will trudge on, my eyes fixed on my thoughts,
Ignoring everything around me, without hearing a sound,
Alone, unknown, back stooped, hands crossed,
Saddened, and the day will be like night for me.
I will neither see the golden glow of the falling evening,
Nor the sails going down to Harfleur in the distance,
And when I arrive, I will place on your tomb
A bouquet of green holly and flowering heather.
The last meeting at midnight
By Sa’ad Nazeer
I’ll wait for you in the wine-cellar
Meet me there at midnight’s toll
We’ll drink beyond our narrow limits.
And then
We’ll say our proper goodbyes.
Lunar eclipse,
By Amna Ameer
The crimson hue,
Lingering to my fingertips,
As I wiped away,
My tears and watched,
The moon lit sky?,
And gave to it,
Letters only deciphered,
In its fading light,
I kept within it,
A secret about time,
I watched us together,
And later apart,
In darkness,
I held the threads,
Of past and present,
And set them free,
For the hours ahead,
I could see the reflection,
Of promise,
In your eyes,
I looked away,
From this beauty,
The pain of memory,
Will take another,
Hundred coincidences?
To eclipse.
Graduate
By Mashaal Farid
It’s the journey I count
On the tick-tock of clock
Had it raised me
What seem’d a mere block
Turning my head, I stepped ahead
I, too, in the crowd, aiming masthead
Dream; soar to the sky
With that my fears all die
To ransack the goal, blaze my passions
Not hard but work smart; this my fashion
Facing it; standing still like a rock
No longer I’m that ruffled jock
But ahead is now that road
I’ll choose
It’s time to move
From converse to shoes.
Time
By Emaan Mujahid
The clock hands never stop
Time continues to flow
It befriends no one
It is faithful to none
Melancholic our days may be
Gruelling our ways may be
Yet all time can do is fly
Changes may come and go
People may live and die
Hardships may darken our lives
But alas
Time continues to flow.
A beautiful paradox
By Ayesha Malik
What does it mean to be happy?
Lots of health, lots of wealth
Truckloads of gold or simply
Money filled to the roofs
Happiness is the instinct
The fragile twinkling
Of a grateful laugh
A beautiful thought
A little bit of work
Enjoining your thoughts
Losing yourself in the melee
Of a melodious rhapsody
For joy is not joy
If not mixed with sorrow
For all we know paradise
Is not lying in luxury
Slipping from one comfort
To another fulfilled desire
Happiness is the hunger
To do more, to endure
To love and hate, fill the slate
With scribbles and calligraphy
Tiring out to achieve
Some meaning, some worth
A beautiful paradox is life
If filled with happiness and strife.
Compiled by SK
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