Stanzas Written In Dejection At Mid Night Poem by Shuaib Saifi

This night too has fallen like every day,
Bright stars still shiver in the sky,
A deep silence is spread all the way,
Except the stubborn crickets' cry.

At times stray dogs begin to bark,
At any movement in the air,
As if they guard the town in dark,
To keep it safe from every scare.

The moon in all its might is bright,
It journeys slowly to the west,
Pouring upon the earth milky light,
It creeps ahead without any rest.

The world lies drowned in heavy sleep,
Worn out from the long day's run,
Only infants wake to play and weep,
Old men laugh — 'their joy is such fun.

I am the one who has no calm, no rest,
Who never knew what joys may be,
What is their colour, what is their taste,
Such things have never come to me.

Yet what I met with at this place
Is heavy pain and black sorrow,
The sting of failure, the deep gloom's face,
And mouths that shoot with toxic arrow.

Here has been only autumn for years,
I never saw a single spring,
But only weather of pouring tears,
Though people say spring will come again.

All limits of pain my lips have kissed,
Ruined beyond ever to restore,
Death is not only when breath is missed,
Look at me — breathing, yet no more.

Each part of my body is lined with wound,
I see my wounds mapped on my skin,
A stranger I have become to this ground,
These wounds have shaped what I have been.

No health is left, no wealth, no pride,
I pass my time in woe and pain,
As if some hidden theft I tried,
This place has been a jail and chain.

At such a cruel turn of time I stand,
Where no beginning can be seen,
Nor any sign of an end at hand,
Where I live as dead in between.

This is the strangest point of my way,
Where no zeal is left for joy to cheer,
Nor any tears are left to weep and say,
I just move on with no target near.

No fear of death disturbs my breath,
No hope for life to come tomorrow,
No faith, no interest, in this desert's death,
I am netted in life and death's sorrow.

Would someone could have seen the pain
That lives beyond my lying smile,
Those on this earth who seem most my own
Are those who kill me all the while.

Would some kind hand to me might come,
And touch this head that burns with fire,
Then these tired eyes so red and tiresome
Might close at last and never retire.

Around me then will gather a crowd,
This night too has fallen like every day,
Bright stars still shiver in the sky,
A deep silence is spread all the way,
Except the stubborn crickets' cry.

At times stray dogs begin to bark,
At any movement in the air,
As if they guard the town in dark,
To keep it safe from every scare.

The moon in all its might is bright,
It journeys slowly to the west,
Pouring upon the earth milky light,
It creeps ahead without any rest.

The world lies drowned in heavy sleep,
Worn out from the long day's run,
Only infants wake to play and weep,
Old men laugh — their joy is such fun.

I am the one who has no calm, no rest,
Who never knew what joys may be,
What is their colour, what is their taste,
Such things have never come to me.

Yet what I met with at this place
Is heavy pain and black sorrow,
The sting of failure, the deep gloom's face,
And mouths that shoot with toxic arrow.

Here has been only autumn for years,
I never saw a single spring,
But only weather of pouring tears,
Though people say spring will come again.

All the limits of pain, my lips have kissed,
Ruined beyond ever to restore,
Death is not only when breath is missed,
Look at me — breathing, yet no more.

Each part of my body is lined with wound,
I see my wounds mapped on my skin,
A stranger I have become to this ground,
These wounds have shaped what I have been.

No health is left, no wealth, no pride,
I pass my time in woe and pain,
As if some hidden theft I tried,
This place has been a jail and chain.

At such a cruel turn of time I stand,
Where no beginning can be seen,
Nor any sign of an end at hand,
Where I live as dead in between.

This is the strangest point of my way,
Where no zeal is left for joy to cheer,
Nor any tears are left to weep and say,
I just move on with no target near.

No fear of death disturbs my breath,
No hope for life to come tomorrow,
No faith, no interest, in this desert's death,
I am netted in life and death's sorrow.

Would someone could have seen the pain
That lives beyond my lying smile,
Those on this earth who seem most my own
Are those who kill me all the while.

Would some kind hand to me might come,
And touch this head that burns with fire,
Then these tired eyes so red and tiresome
Might close at last and never retire.

Around me then will gather a crowd,
Some will mourn and some will weep,
Some will lay upon me a shroud,
When I shall sleep a never-breaking sleep.

For a blissful life I'll have no complaint,
Nor for a painful death that never stops,
My soul will only ever lament —
I couldn't fulfill someone's hopes.

No calm was ever in these open eyes,
Not yesterday, not today,
Nor after closing will a sun arise
To take this restlessness away.

- It's all about my life's journey..