Jis samandar ki lehero me tair ke laut aaye hum,
Suna he ki log usme doob ke paar ho gaye.
_________________________________________
Translation:
The ocean that I swam in and returned from unscathed,
I’ve heard, has drowned many and let them pass.
______________________________________
Author’s note: In Urdu poetry, a Sher is a couplet, where two lines present one thought or story.
Sir jhukaye, asman ko neelam lutaate dekhta hu,
Sharm he ki hatheliya dua me khulne nahi deti.
Translation:
Head bent, I look at the sapphires falling from skies above.
Pride forces my palms in pockets, ashamed to spread heavenwards and collect.
______________________________________
Author’s note:
In Urdu poetry, a Sher is a couplet, where two lines present one thought or story.
I run another site with urdu poetry and I’m moving my work here gradually. I will translate the pieces, but not verbatim since it seems impossible without breaking the spirit of the piece.
Sun dips toes in horizon.
Sleepy stars call for embrace
Crying dewey tears.
Authur’s note: Haiku is a form of short poetry originally from Japan. Traditional Japanese haiku consist of three phrases in a 5, 7, 5 pattern (5,7,5 syllables or words in English), and a seasonal reference.
Sun
kisses
the ground but
winter reigns my
heart.
Storm
rocks my
paper ship–
drenched, not drowned–
ever.
Author’s note: Lantern is a type of descriptive poetry from Japan that follows the syllable structure of one, two, three, four and one syllables per line to shape a lantern when the words are centered to middle.
Wanton thoughts pass through mind.
Spring air kisses cheeks leaving desire warm.
Seasons mock with you gone.
Walked in with fists tight,
Shouted, cursed, blamed, cried, fell on knees,
Begged for mercy, in church, that night.
Based on the style of Classic Hindi writer, Bihari, known for writing entire story in two lines.
There are dogs and, then, there is ‘The Dog’;
The one that owns you right from the moment your eyes meet;
The one who silently commands you with puppy eyes to pick it up;
and marks you as his own territory by fervant licks;
The one who ties you around its wagging tail
and rules your life then onwards.
It’s too late until you realise that you’ll be
feeding him out of your hand, buying him toys,
taking him on walks, cleaning after him;
become his slave for the rest of your life…
It’s too late because you are already ensnared in the trap
the little four-legged cupid had set up for you…
You have lost your heart…
For some reason, I’m missing you a lot, Master Bruno...
Photo by Nathaniel Bowman on Unsplash
I hold the phone
hoping you’ll pick up;
hoping you wouldn’t;
hoping you’ll recognise the number;
hoping you wouldn’t;
wondering how you could forget the number
when I couldn’t…
I hold the phone
hoping you’re awake;
hoping you’re asleep;
wondering how you could,
when I couldn’t…
I hold the phone wondering
if you have company
and who could she be;
fuming, how you could
when I couldn’t…
Raging, I throw the phone
at the wall
breaking it into pieces
like me…
Still wishing,
you had taken that call…
You stand with your family
looking at me with eyes full of hate–
angry at god-knows-what
since god-knows-when–
glaring at the lawyer, the clerk, the judge,
your mortal enemies without a grudge.
You shift the glare
to burn a hole through my heart.
Startled, I glance back without anger,
only deep loss at the part
where the last thing we ever share
is the papers you hand over
to set us both apart.
Short Stories 