The walls have come out of doors
Narrows are the passages, many are the footprints
On the steep rock where the sun lies half reclined
Jumping over one's shadow, falling headlong
Is the ultimate truth, nothing new about it
Dreaming some old dream
Eyes know not how much water has come out
Of their oceanic depths.
It is easy to cross a river
but how difficult it is to find a foothold on its banks.
Passing through the vicinity of human settlements
the pathways of history meander through
Fields, meadows, and vineyards and disappear
in the rise and fall of women.
Before the new crops come in
Weather keeps on changing.
Profound thoughts are for the Elect
and death for all!
Failure to compose a poem
is not the tragedy of the poet
when life is face to face with perpetual death
Death is reduced to a worn out cliché
Watering of the bygone days
yields nothing but heartrending toil.
Before we are discovered in our state of loneliness
from some star beyond our ken
Come! Let's scramble through the portals of the
Decaying buildings manned by enslaved
Souls, whose bodies are wrapped in dust
and bones have turned brittle
And just a gesture from the hand
Will bring them down to their feet.
The birds of clouds
and fluffs of rains
are not far away from the reach of the weather satellite.
Poem by: Naseer Ahmed Nasir,1994.
Translated from Urdu into English by Prof. Ghulam Gilani Asghar.
Copyrights (C) All rights reserved.
Topic(s) of this poem: history, loneliness, philosophy, poetry, weather
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.