Politicians
They come from the footpaths
And return back to the footpaths.
The Art of Signing
Having signed, I thought of myself
An artist.
The Fire And t frenzy of emotion
When it comes the stanzas of verse, search I for desperately
For pen and paper to put down on paper
The unputdownable.
O, Musician, The Musician of Life And the World!
O charmer, where do you, lie in, playing the wooden been music
Of India, Asia and the East,
Charming with your melody!
I Stood Still And Silent
To see the turbaned and rugged Talibans
Gathering to fire on the Buddhas,
The Buddhas of Bamiyan.
The rugged and turbaned Talibans firing upon
The Buddhas, the Bamiyan Buddhas,
The Buddhas of peace.
A Singer of Heart
Sing I the songs of love
And the heart.
Had the heart been not,
I would not have the songs of love.
Suppose
Suppose you poetry is photography
And the poet a photographer
Snapping the photos, clicking the camera
To catch on the lenses and the reels
And the album your collection,
A collection of smiling faces,
The photos of girls as romantic poems.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem