In the deep infernal pit, Dante quails,
His flesh conflagrates, his brain ebbs and trails,
Melting through his nostrils, the agony reigns,
His heart cries out in dire, despairing strains.
...
In a realm where Chinar foliage once gracefully danced,
Now draped in yellowed garments, a fateful romance enhanced.
The passage of years has parted two entwined hearts,
Yet their souls, sundered, forever dwell in separate parts.
...
On the lifeless mountain
Where the flowers bloom,
Shines the golden fountain
And fresh winds blow
...
Swelling on earth
Embellished
With flower petals infinite;
Shielding cadavers
...
Shall shadow of man,
Whose life has been a reverie,
Depart from the Earth and treachery?
Withdrawing this world unreal
...
The perennial uncertainty which we hate,
Becomes less of enemy, more of mate.
...
Amid this vociferousness,
Enervative endeavours,
Smiles, façades,
Songs and dances
...
Benign breeze of cordial spring,
Nature with its full pride sing
Melodies to skying heights,
Journeying eternal flights.
...
Mohammad Saif is currently working as an Assistant Professor at Acharya University, Uzbekistan. Previously he was working with Amity Institute of English Studies and Research, Amity University, Noida where he taught English and Communication skills at undergraduate and postgraduate level. He earned Distinction in M.Phil. for his dissertation ‘A Study of Selected Narratives on the Tradition and Practice of Al-Hijama'. He is driven by an unflinching thirst for knowledge and a resolute dedication to the pursuit of lifelong learning. His belief in the transcendent power of Literature, with its unique capacity to impart profound life lessons and nurture a deep sense of empathy for all humanity, inspires him to constantly explore new ideas and perspectives.)
In Infernal Tempest
In the deep infernal pit, Dante quails,
His flesh conflagrates, his brain ebbs and trails,
Melting through his nostrils, the agony reigns,
His heart cries out in dire, despairing strains.
Beatrice, his beloved, he seeks in vain,
Her presence but a memory, a long-lost bane,
His eyes, once bright, now glazed in feverish pain,
Despairing, wishing he had not been so profane.
If only he had believed in God's divine,
His soul could have been saved from this fiery brine,
But alas, he rejected the path so divine,
Now he suffers, begging for a pardon, a sign.
Amidst the flames, his body and soul doth rot,
As the eternal punishment is his lot,
Dante regrets his sins, his heart aching and fraught,
In the inferno, his spirit is forever caught.
Basing your perceptions on world's perceptions is extremely erroneous.