We Are Hearts And Hands
Be not annoyed with me,
Those who go asunder
On the winding route
Are in fact alien since beginning.
If it is possible,
Think not of them your own,
And be not melancholic,
O! Friend,
Make not your courage
The dust of their feet.
Be not annoyed with me,
Never lose your valour,
Till breath goes on be optimist,
Leave not the edge of hope,
Tough love is afar yet it is near too.
Rise! Gird up your back,
For I am with you,
We both are hearts,
And hands of each other.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Divine Secret
The divine secret we all should know,
The seeds we sow that certainly grow;
When the rain falls and the sun shines,
And soothing congenial winds do blow.
Acacian pills bear no sweet mangoes,
Or fragrant roses that sway and glow,
So the deeds issue the plants of results,
Delay not my friend, learn to timely plow,
And scatter the seeds with devoted faith,
He will reward you either soon or slow.
Otherwise blame not the Providence when,
You are haunted by a vulture or a crow.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Life-Line
Life is loaded with the episodes,
Many dismal but a few cheerful.
My son died,
A short awhile after his birth,
Came down from the heaven,
Went quickly beneath the earth.
Before we gave him a final wash,
And wrapped him in the shroud,
I opened his fist to kiss his hand,
With tiny fingers and little nails,
And glanced his lines on the palm,
Lifeline encircled the whole Luna
That meant he would live long,
More than a span of ninety years,
But it mocked by leaving us in tears.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Smoldering
I sat beside the sappy smoldering straw,
Thick grey smoke rose from the substance,
With the undulating curvy dancing motion,
When the winter wind blew form the west;
And dissipated far above into the dusky air,
Like an apparition of a despised phantom.
Then the gushing blows spurted the flames,
That altered the heaped pile into dark ashes,
While the heap burnt I listened to the blistering,
Sounds conveying: smoldering either extincts,
Or spurts, it does not go on for the long time.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The End Of Chase
Life is a shattered dream,
That guarantees no realization,
We all chase delusions,
Of smells and colours,
Till we reach the farthest end:
The point of no return,
Where darkness wraps us all
And in the mist of obscurity,
The chase of life ends,
In remorse and regret,
By cursing, blaming ourselves
Amid the vanishing hallucinations,
And confronting reality.
Ah! Then we are left behind,
All alone in the form of carcasses,
Being dined by the Vulture of Time.
By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Yes I Am Friendless
Yes, I am friendless,
Yes, he showed me a dream,
Then made me a victim of his tyranny;
When the train of my tears broke,
They brimmed the bowl of my chest;
And when the Sun went asleep,
Someone burnt with out fire.
On all sides around there surges blood,
All move with no gain; but with pain,
Who will make out here the fellow beings?
Here all chatter their own matters,
Everywhere there is helter-skelter,
Ah! Here we all are felons.
By Fakhira Batool Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Dismal Doom
Who bangs at the door,
And awakens
The sleeping conscience?
I walked a lot,
On the track of life,
I did spend time,
In vile and vain race,
Rebelling at every pace.
When I look behind,
I see the stones,
Coming on me,
Striking and wounding,
Blood staining my cloak.
I see the snakes hissing,
And the dogs howling,
Running after, chasing me,
These are my wrongs, my follies,
[...] Read more
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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In The Clutches Of Death
War
Is a mutiny against life
And civilization.
I am loyal to both
Life and peace,
But forced to live
In the shadow of death.
Those who defeated the armies,
Can not defeat wars.
I am in the clutches death,
And all doors
Of deliverance are slammed.
A few warriors have made hostage
The whole humanity.
“Peace and friendship are incompatible”
Is only war viable?
The army
Is busy is bent upon to slam for us
[...] Read more
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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An Empty Basket
Alongside the path a man very old
At half rate fresh oranges he sold
In the dim light of an electric pole
For he wished to sell the stuff whole.
At the midnight he sat with a hope
Beside the brimming basket to cope
With the domestic needs of future
To smash, break an ensnaring rope
Of misfortune but no one came by
While he made a silent unheard cry.
In the morn when the sun rose bright,
To reveal the spot of fear and fright,
The vendor lay prostrate motionless,
Ah! The basket was empty at the sight.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Poems Flutter
Along each river in thousands are the ditches,
And the dungeons that conceals the objects,
Thousands of things hidden to the human eyes.
Man in fact is a brimming river wide and deep,
Thousands of ditches hide secrets countless;
As pebbles, sand, stones dwell in the bottom,
Covered with the opaque oozy settling layers.
I bring out those pebbles, sand and stones,
To construct, erect the castle with thick walls,
Where nestle themselves poems mysterious,
And often flutter; flap there from one by one.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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