Entries Tagged 'روز كى شاعرى' ↓

Abd el-Hadi Fights a Superpower – آج کی شاعری

In his life
he neither wrote nor read.
In his life he
didn’t cut down a single tree,
didn’t slit the throat
of a single calf.
In his life he did not speak
of the New York Times
behind its back,
didn’t raise
his voice to a soul
except in his saying:
“Come in, please,
by God, you can’t refuse.”


Nevertheless –
his case is hopeless,
his situation
His God-given rights are a grain of salt
tossed into the sea.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury:
about his enemies
my client knows not a thing.
And I can assure you,
were he to encounter
the entire crew
of the aircraft carrier Enterprise,
he’d serve them eggs
sunny-side up,
and labneh
fresh from the bag.

by Taha Muhammad Ali
tr. Peter Cole, Yahya Hijazi, Gabriel Levin

آج کی شاعری

ہمیں بھی جلوہ گاہِ ناز پر لے کر چلو موسی
تمہیں غش آ گیا تو حُسنِ جاناں کون دیکھے گا

آج کی شاعری

I Don’t Burn -by Kevin Young

Dear Darkness—consider this
my last attempt

to reach you. My previous
few missives

having boomeranged back
unread, postmarks blurred

by the gloved hands
that tried carrying

them to your door.
Or, torn

by the machines.
I wish

…Read the rest here

آج کی شاعریٓ

I’m somewhat abashed about quoting a Noori song as today’s poetry, but it’s good poetry, dammit, and who cares if they’ve sold out, grown their hair longer and decided to play Sufi?


دل میرے رو لے
کیا کیا تُو بولے
میں سن رہا ہوں سدا

کیسے کہوں میں
پتھر بہت ہیں
پھولوں کے رستے جا

او ساتھی رے
ان راہوں کو تُو جان لے

ہم بھولے دنیا بھولے
ہم بکھرے، اب کیا رونا
بیتی یادون کے سائے اب ہیں پرائے
اس چھاؤں کو تُو بھول جا
سن لے

دل میرے رو لے
کیا کیا تُو بولے
میں سن رہا ہو سدا

دریا نہ ساہل، طوفان منزل
کانوں میں ہے شور سا
کیسے کہوں میں

موجیں بہت ہیں
پھولوں کے رستے جا
او ساتھی رے
ان موجوں کو تُو جان لے

Dreams Bite


Dreams bite
Dreamer and legend
at the edge of purpose
I see the people of winter
put off their masks
to stain the earth red with blood

Continue reading →

نثار میں تری گلیوں کے اے وطن

نثار میں تری گلیوں کے اے وطن کہ جہاں
چلی ہے رسم کہ کوئی نہ سر اُٹھا کے چلے
جو کوئی چاہنے والا طواف کو نکلے
نظر چُرا کے چلے، جسم و جاں بچا کے چلے
Continue reading →

آج كى شاعرى

Down New Mexico way
something about the open road
I knew that he was looking for some Indian blood and
find a little you, find a little in me
we may be on this road but
we’re just imposters in this country, you know

What About China

I’ve seen it all
I have seen the trees
I have seen the willow leaves dancing in the breeze.

I’ve seen a man killed
by his best friend
and lives that were over
before they were spent

I have seen what I was
and I know what I’ll be
I’ve seen it all
There is no more to see

You haven’t seen elephants
Kings or Peru

I’m happy to say I had better to do

What about China,
have you seen the Great Wall?

All walls are great
if the roof doesn’t fall.
And the man you will marry
and the home you will share.

To be honest, I really don’t care.

You’ve never been
to Niagara Fall.

I have seen water,
it’s water, that’s all.

The Eiffel Tower
and the Empire State

My pulse was as high
on my very first date

Your grandson’s hand
as he plays with your hair.

To be honest, I really don’t care.

I have seen it all
I have seen the dark
I have seen the brightness
in one little spark
I have seen what I choose
and I’ve seen what I need
and that is enough
to want more would be greed
I’ve seen what I was
and I know what I’ll be
I’ve seen it all
There is no more to see

You’ve seen it all
and all you have seen
you can always review
on your own little screen
The light and the dark
The big and the small
Just keep in mind
you need no more at all

You’ve seen what you are
and you know what you’ll be
You’ve seen it all
There is no more to see

– Bjork, “I’ve Seen It All”

ٓآج کی شاعری

شغلِ محبت اب ہے یہ تسکین

شعر كہيں اور جی بہلائيں

Two Poems By Mark Strand


~ for Richard Howard

Men are running across a field,
pens fall from their pockets.
People out walking will pick them up.
It is one of the ways letters are written.

How things fall to others!
The self no longer belonging to me, but asleep
in a stranger’s shadow, now clothing
the stranger, now leading him off.

It is noon as I write to you.
Someone’s life has come into my hands.
The sun whitens the buildings.
It is all I have. I give it all to you. Yours,



~ for Donald Justice

The professors of English have taken their gowns
to the laundry, have taken themselves to the fields.
Dreams of motion circle the Persian rug in a room you were in.
On the beach the sadness of gramophones
deepens the ocean’s folding and falling.
It is yesterday. It is still yesterday.


I miss my friends that aren’t here. I miss my poems. I miss a good reason. I’m not bummed, I’m just saying.

My Artsy Friend, Behold!

Today’s Geniotic Bit!

I have finally acquired Thud! by Terry Pratchett, a Christmas present from my rockin’ mum. And it has one of my two favourite central Pratchett characters: Vimes and the Watch. The other is Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg. These are two characters and not four (or more) because they carry with them such solidity and life as a unit that it would be plum blasphemous to suggest they were separate. But they are equal.

So: on Art. The setting is a museum, where there has been a theft of a famous painting.

“Hey, this must be a clue, Sarge!” said Nobby, who had returned to his default activity of mooching about and poking at things to see if they were valuable. “Look, someone dumped a load of stinking ol’ rubbish here!”

He’d wandered across to a plinth, which did, indeed, appear to be piled high with rags.

“Don’t touch that, please!” said Sir Reynold, rushing over. “That’s Don’t Talk to Me About Mondays! It’s Daniellarina Pouter’s most controversial hwork! You didn’t move anything, did you?” he added nervously. “It’s literalleah priceless, and she’s got a sharp tongue on her!”

“It’s only a lot of old rubbish,” Nobby protested, backing away.

“Art is greater than the sum of its mere mechanical components, Corporal,” said the curator. “Surely you hwould not say that Caravati’s Three Large Pink Women and One piece of Gauze is just, ahem, ‘a lot of old pigment’?”

“What about this one, then?” said Nobby, pointing to the adjacent plinth. “It’s just a big stake with a nail in it! Is this art, too?”

Freedom? If it hwas ever on the market, it hwould probableah fetch thirty thousand dollars,” said Sir Reynold.

“For a bit of wood with a nail in it?” said Fred Colon. “Who did it?”

“After he viewed Don’t Talk to Me About Mondays!, Lord Vetinari [the ruler of the city] graciousleah had Ms. Pouter nailed to the stake by her ear,” said [Sir Reynold] Stitched. “However, she did manage to pull free during the afternoon.”

“I bet she was mad!” said Nobby.

“Not after she hwon several awards for it. I believe she’s planning to nail herself to several other things. It could be a very exciting exhibition.”

“Tell you what, then, sir,” said Nobby cheerfully. “Why don’t you leave the ol’ big frame where it is and give it a new name, like Art Theft?”

“No,” said Sir Reynold coldly. “That would be foolish.”

You gotta love it. And if you don’t, well, you’re a cretin. Or American. Or have no soul, and hmph on you.

آج كى اعلى شاعرى

Anna Akhmatova rocks my world. Translation by Judith Hemschmeyer.

No, tsarevitch, I am not the one
You want me to be.
And no longer do my lips
Kiss – they prophesy.

Don’t think that, delirious
And tormented by grief,
I shriek of calamity:
This is my trade.

I know how to teach,
How to make the unexpected real,
How to domesticate forever
The one who took your fancy for a while.

Do you want fame? – then you
Should ask me for advice,
Only – it’s a trap
Where there is neither joy nor light.

Well, go home now
And forget that we met,
And as for your sin, my darling,
I will answer the Lord for it.

آج كى شاعرى

I can get a tip jar
Gas up the car
Try to make a little change
Down at the bar

Or I can get a straight job
I’ve done it before
Never minded working hard
It’s who I’m working for

‘Cause everything is free now
That’s what they say
Everything I ever done
Gonna give it away
Someone hit the big score
And I figured it out
That I’m gonna do it anyway
Even if it doesn’t pay

– Gillian Welch