Naveed Akram Poems

Waiting for this moment my life is raised to the grave,
It is mind and matter that is erased, minds enfold the
Moods of death, they play on the wishes of the soul.
My life enters the route to unhappiness, blessed,
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Mountains are burdened by the beauty of my climb,
Rain enters, snows confine, and storms arise, to steal
My imagination of the inner virtues and inner crimes.
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Everything contains everything, even youth is an example
Of this everything that forbids more from happening, like an
Event that causes other events, which in turn collapses.
Every sort of man considers the plain understanding of man,
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My story is the chapter of charts and chalices,
My life is a festival of genius and gesture and guests.
If I survive, my child will listen to the words of my love,
My love is everlasting in the supreme heart, for this child.
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Knowing me is like knowing weather, inward dreams,
And solutions of the poverty and wealth, of riches and rags.
My case is a subtle case, it conquers the cases of cases,
For this is difficult on the horizon of design, of philosophy.
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He is bemused by the priest,
He slants his head like a beast.
The priest does not stop,
He is sacrificing with a chop-chop!
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Purity encompasses our past like fury,
It comprises the victory signs of the jury.
A maid of heaven shall be purer than you,
Instead your place in heaven is sealed like barbecue.
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