Ehsanul Haque

Ehsanul Haque Poems

The Best Poem Of Ehsanul Haque

To Music

O Music, what sounds you speak into the layman's ear
What tones you breathe unique and clear
What colours you paint when my soul you touch
Softly caressing, refreshing, tear by tear.

Beyond all reach is Thy might, so enchanting
Love flutters in Thy wings, quietly caressing
Worships sound frail without Thy call
My heart stays at rest, in Thee believing.

You are man's emotion, his tongue's speech
You are the cry of a broken heart, the sound of the wavy beach
You blend souls, you tear souls, you shred souls
You give us knowledge, our brains you teach.

Often you sent down godly angels upon us
Allegri, Vivaldi, Bach, Handel and Haydn, all genius,
And Mozart, Ludwig, Chopin, Liszt and Wagner, seniors alike
Look after them, hear them, then your emotions you give us.

Deep down upon earth, lying quietly unheard
Are lovers dying, torn cruelly by time's gird
Schubert and Mendelssohn, young in death,
Their works spilling love, the sounds of the songbird.

Yet again there are others who did not see love,
Betraying Liszt did Brahms still rise high above,
While Franz's tear became the Liebestraum
Still crying after centuries past, a lonesome dove.

O Music, you formed kings and kingdoms too
The Bachs, the Strausses, and their virtuous hue
Peter-Nikolai, Alligheri-Rubinstein, Antonio Stradivari
Legacies divine have stamped their tones, so pure, so true.

Long ago did Ludwig and Felix break each a piano string
Never knowing what virtuosi lay beyond them hanging;
A third string did break too upon a great green hill;
Does Bartolomeo know what he's created, while I look upon him with deep longing?

The tune of the piano, the mellow of the harp, the beats of the tabla, the cry of the sitar
The treble of the piccolo, the summon of the organ, the fanfare of the trombone, the strumming of the guitar
The wailing of the old phonograph, the rolling felts of the player piano
The humming of a harmonica, all play You, Music, cacophony rest afar.

Your strings gracefully strung, your bows tearfully bowed
Your voices unified in song, all great music towed
Symphonies resounding, concertos applauding, sonatas playing
How ages have so neatly your histories hoed!

Your forebearers have given us a lot, Music, like the drumskin and the lute
Notated papyri, fig leaves, beast skin and tablets as root
While later men's eyes crafted your instruments to perfection
Though many noisy genres crazily spread diseases acute.

Through ages you travelled mouth to mouth, soul to soul, ear to ear
Then the Elders wrote you down for endless futures to hear;
A great old Edison taught us to preserve you with permanence,
O Music, such elegant virtuosi have you laid down so dear!

Amir too created you, in his own grand way
The tabla and the sitar still cry lovingly today
There was only one Tansen who brought down the rains
Never have I heard such emotions in full sway.

I bow to Thee, O Music, for what you have fed me
Feed me more forever so, I, your humble servant will always be
Live forever, for life's silent without your gear
Silent is all worship, and darkness does all see.

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