Museum Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

Here is a museum, mine, yours or of all,
Here exists a lot, to show and get showed,
But keep your senses composed,
Do not get your astuteness baffled,
Nor get the support of gushing sentiments.
It is just a museum, everything seems realistic;
Isn't it correct?
But all is here fake you know well,
Even the worthless things seem precious,
When adorned in the museum.
We have too discarded all useless, worthless,
Items lying in the corners,
Conscience and codes of self-esteem,
All were lying rotten,
All were brushed, dusted and adorned,
Enameled afresh maxims and actions
Of olden times now they too are glistening.
Though good times were those,
Yet it was a liability of the soil too,
So we divided pieces of the soil,
Placed them in the same museum,
In the hidden recesses, imprisoned
In circumference of the faint romantic glow.

Written By Farheen Chaudhry
Translated By Muhammad Shanazar