Washed Beauty (An Acrostic)
Love emitting origin, beaming a faint
Yellow pink glow of light, and sweeps
Nips thorns of darkness: the debris of
Night that makes the world bitter harsh.
Adds scent and colour to a drab life,
Large-hearted, selfless noble being,
Eloquent figure of letters, as rare as
Xenon that makes the world radiant,
Astute, auspicious, fair and judicious
Nymph, a fairy with washed beauty,
Decent in styles modes and manners,
Efficient in discerning fragile hearts,
Removes always blobs of depression.
Lynn Alexander
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Where Are You?
I have driven back my car to the porch,
But the hands resting on the steering
Would not switch off the machine.
I have returned,
But where should I go ahead in the house;
Tight are laces of my shoes,
And these gloves are dank.
Look behind awhile!
The collar of my shirt never had been
So dull, as it is now,
The knot of my tie gives off inertia of ages,
The dust of loneliness wraps me from all around,
Where are you my love? Where are you my love?
Written By Qayyum Tahir
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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In The Company Of Cain
A sojourn on the far distant strange land,
Took me to a plain of the scorched sand,
Replete with the countless vertical holes,
Each was guarded by a figure with a wand.
Their round entrances were all black sable,
They were the abodes of those who did gable,
And agonized more the miserable fellows,
With the blood, the world they did dabble.
They were confined with no end of pain,
And were facing the plight for being vain,
Their cries mingled in the rising smoke, for
They were doomed in the company of Cain.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Season
Written By Sughra Sadaf
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar
Since you have altered you looks,
It is strange they have changed
The season of my inner-self.
The stars of my eyes,
The spell of my words,
Fragrance of my breath,
They have been taken away
From me, my all assets.
Now you do not come in springs,
And in autumns you make me eager,
I don’t know why it happens
In the patio of my inner-self,
There is a static season of autumn,
Sometimes it comes from this way,
And sometimes encroaches from that side.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Leg On The Shoulder
I beheld,
A middle aged man,
With an amputated leg,
Laming on crutches,
Dragging the load of his body,
And climbing up
Steep of the hill,
Huffed he at each landing
On the way to his home:
Serpentine and winding.
They say,
He comes down
On the 1st of every month
To get pension,
And while returning
When he goes up
Striving against the acclivity,
His young son of eight
Sometimes drags on the ground,
[...] Read more
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Millennium to Millennium
Bearing the corpse of clear sunny day,
Upon the shoulder when I went out,
Alone I was, no one accompanied me,
But some shadows,
Walked along swaying in ecstatic mood,
But some beams,
Accompanied with lashes moisty wet,
But some tears,
That blurred the sights,
But some drops,
The sun whom missed a lot,
But some memories,
Whom upon grew green guinea-grass,
But some moments,
Who riding on the train of centuries,
Jogged place to place, spot to spot.
But some shadows,
Walked along swaying in ecstatic mood.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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On Suspicion
A dormant volcanic eruption,
When bursts, bursts with quakes,
Vomits havoic fiery substance,
Burns mind, body and soul.
A blurring cataract in the eyes,
Darkens the vision, mists the realities.
A fatal poison with no remedy;
More relentless when works among
The life partners and loyal companions.
One’s own blood and flesh seem alien,
Sets homes on fire where from,
Nothing emits but smoke from ashes.
Fortunate are those who ward off,
The vehement attacks defending well,
And keep themselves moderately poised.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Dreams Are Not To Be Imprisoned
You besieged me,
You made me stripped,
You smashed with toes of shoes,
You pointed at me your gun,
You placed burning coals
Amid the silk of my words.
The sights my eyes abhorred
You showed them heartily;
To mould me into your pattern,
You contrived frames.
To straighten my bones,
You assembled new tools;
But O! Friend,
You cannot overwhelmed my dreams,
Now swinging cheerfully into the eyes,
Then soaring into the open airs,
With their celestial enthralling colours,
With their own will, in their own world.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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A Devotee… (An Acrostic)
Fineness combined with all delicacies,
Affects both adamant hearts and minds,
Kneels and bows only before Almighty,
Humility, grace in perfect womanhood,
Incarnated love, sincerity, and fidelity,
Reward and gift to someone fortunate,
Admirable in lovely pose and posture.
Beauty that always reminds its Designer,
Aroma much sweeter than fragrant roses,
Tactful in dealing with impulsive beings,
Open-hearted and with capacious mind,
Orator who ever fought for woman cause,
Lover and devotee of Five Sacred Beings.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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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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