The Spring Of 2011
Springs come and go,
On times in the cycle,
This years again it has come,
But I sense the stench,
Mixed in the breeze,
Of floating bloating bodies,
Coming from
The coastal line of Japan,
I hear too, muffled cries
And sobbing sounds,
Of the grieved hearts,
And exploding reactor,
I expect too, acid rains
On the newly born shoots
Leaves and petals:
The debris of aftermath.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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On Love Half Realized
Even in the dream
Never lay your lashes
For half-realized love.
Half curtailed dreams
Torment the eyes.
Implant not half-recalled memory,
In the terrain of heart, for it pricks
And wheezes restlessly therein,
Rattles agonizingly,
And flashes like lightening in the blood.
Let go away love half-realized
For Love, Fondness,
And Love Madness
Are always unfulfilled, half-realized.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Phoenix
A dream of the whole age
Is hidden only in one kiss,
What should I tell in which hearth I placed
The wood of fate-line of the palm,
And turned it into ashes.
Your agony like phoenix
Gets rebirth from ashes,
And resides in my inner-being.
One kiss that composes my life,
Every evening I placing it on my lips,
Entrust to an eye of imagination,
And come into life again and again.
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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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
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At Last You Departed
Oh! Friend for you supported my hand,
My deserted heart became a fairy-land.
I accompanied and went along with you,
Covering the distances on the hot sand.
I felt your presence like rosy fragrance,
Your subtle touch made my soul grand.
I adored you in the temple of my heart,
And placed you where deities did stand.
Ah! At last you departed like a dream,
Breaking the bond and linking strand.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Scattering Dreams
Melodious voices of the blowing lute,
Resound at the calm hour of midnight,
Vibrating echoes return many folds,
And sway nodding the bushes and trees,
The valley seems wearing the sheet of love.
I know the meeting shall not take place,
For your feet sap perfumed colour of Hina 1,
Unlucky will be the tomorrow morn.
We shall mourn on the scattering dreams,
And uniting hearts will break asunder.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Lamentation
Yesterday at noon
A farmer,
Was run over by a Parado,
Blood splattered the road,
People of the village,
Tattled about the death,
A moment few,
Then silence prevailed,
As if nothing happened.
Today a crow
On the electric pole
Has entangled
Amid high tension wires,
And the whole family of crows
Lamented over the death,
Almost the whole day,
As if nothing of theirs
Remained in the world behind.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Evening
At the brim of drowning day,
A slight after the sunset,
Clad in crimson pink bridal dress,
I see a bride every day exposing
Her unheeded, enthralling beauties,
Waiting for her courting partner,
Propping and fondling in both hands,
The silky locks of light and darkness,
And she ever stands for a while between,
Like a smart streak partitioning boundaries,
Of the shiny silvery day, dark shady night.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Helplessness
The bird of heart,
Swooped and swooped,
Exhausted in flights,
Its wings are now conked out,
For branch to branch it nestled,
Farm to farm it picked the grain,
Place to place it slaked hunger,
The world is a delusion,
Flights plucked out its feathers,
No plunge proved resultant,
All around death dances,
Time worn out the extremities,
Who should in the mortal world,
Contest wrestle against time.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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