Naveed Akram Poems

This heat, this heat is penetrating the joints and meat
Of my corpse, later to have risen for some blind life ahead of me.
I am forgotten by most, resurrection is no crime,
Follies abound inside my soul, that readily is devoured
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After this I gather a wooden stick collection,
Burning the sticks of wooden nature.
A fire has rudely devoured the flesh of my world,
The later periods have contrived a short pause.
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I see before my eyes the wonderful words,
Speak them around the mouth to sustain,
So that meanings are clear to the birds.
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The sheep are soundless in the snow,
Sleepless for the night as it stoops;
Aggression has appeared for the lairs,
As I have risen for the keeping of foxes.
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I ride wrongly and accuse the believer,
He has sacked me and called me godly,
For my twitches are sacred and the art
Of the soul is finished in the forms of death.
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To see the wildness in a man is sacred,
Offering him news confounds the truth,
But an anatomical picture of a destiny is unique
So that we are physicians of our destinies.
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Your bitter, twisted heads are like foes,
Rolling in dust with the wind of joy,
Instigating a trouble for the foes at hardness,
Beset with gloom are the foes.
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The rock’s crafty protuberances spoiled the wars
When breathing surrounded the circumstances,
A march to a son was towards the home of choice;
But sons were sons, daughters were daughters,
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The twist of the plot is upon the lips,
He embraces a virgin with colours
And calls the chastity of splendour
A real stamina, a real hurtling arrow
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Nature of the wine is of a pond,
Its stagnant pond reflects in the world.
For many are drunk, many are wild,
Fulfilling dreams of a night in despair.
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