Naveed Akram Poems

My death has been spared by the alacrity
Of the movement that swears to some faults;
My goose is over in its graveness,
My goose is winging its way to my soul.
...

The wise ones say they are afraid of words,
You live your existence with the wisdom of today;
But the calves of this world deny gears that matter,
They are providers of beautiful flesh to be so selfless.
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Well met by the animals of the past,
He is sands, he is winter of the light;
By this tragic beginning a futility has come,
The dunes deplore this person of the flesh.
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To return to the harmful carries wit,
Inside the island is a world hated,
Feeling like the gun that swings to and fro.
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The famous rule the world like words of the biblical passages,
Their paths cross and elaborate the virtuous world with messages;
One remembers the fame of the obliged one who displays sacredness,
His faith guarantees us with its pleasure, as the faith mourns and cries.
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Thirsty icons are displayed by the public,
Then messages revolve to astound the majors
Who control the lesser troops of the day and night,
Much is to be sought in this haystack.
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Within the heart is a light of great sight,
Opening this door of right is totally connected
To the wishes of the Beloved,
Who watches over us and entices us
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The box is trouble,
Its corners murder its worship.
The box elapses due
To haste, and it unwound
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Think like the sun as if stars
Empty their light,
And that black hole means
Death, of the other sort
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To redden the leg with a land-mine
Creates confusion with the body;
The entire landscape is already dead,
And the shrapnel lands far down.
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