mein tujhe ko bhool chuka – ahmed nadeem qasmi

Mein tujhe ko bhool chuka, Lekin aik umar ke baad
Tera kheyal kya tha ke chott ubhar aayi

izhaar – ahmed nadeem qasmi

Tujhe izhaar-e-muhabbat se agar nafrat hai
tuu ne honToN ko larazne se to rokaa hotaa

be-niyaazii se, magar kaaNptii aavaaz ke saath
tuu ne ghabraa ke miraa naam na puuchaa hotaa

tere bas meN thii agar mash’al-e-jazbaat kii lau
tere ruKhsaar meN gulzaar na bhaRkaa hotaa

yuN to mujh se huii sirf aab-o-havaa ki baateN
apne TooTe hue fiqroN ko to parkhaa hotaa

yuuNhii be-waj’h ThiThakney ki zaruurat kyaa thii
dam-e-ruKhsat maiN agar yaad na aayaa hotaa

teraa ghammaz banaa khud tiraa andaaz-e-khiraam
dil na sambhlaa, to qadmoN ko sambhaala hota

apne badle miree tasviir nazar aa jaati
tuu ne us vaqt agar aaiinaa dekhaa hotaa

hoaslaa tujh ko na thaa mujh se judaa hone kaa
varnaa kaajal tiree aaNkhoN meN na phailaa hotaa

poem – some one my own

My footprints are found on snow and sand.
I was always seeking ‘some on My Own’
everwhere, every season,
and in every country.
I wanted some one whose nearness
could let me feel that
I also deserve the right to live.

If I am alive today, it is not
without some cogent reason.
After a whole life time.

I’ve come to realize
that the person who seemed
an utter stranger, earlier,
is actually My Own.

The fellow is neither a blood relation,
nor equal in age and yet,
has proved sincere to me
like a lotus flower in water-
a person who offer nothing but love,
a person who gets nothing but love.
(Jan. 1990)

patthar – ahmed nadeem qasmi

ret se but na banaa ai mere achchhe fankaar

ek lamhe ko Thahar, maiN tujhe patthar laa duuN
maiN tere saamane ambaar lagaa duuN lekin
kaun se rang kaa patthar tere kaam aayegaa
surKh patthar jise dil kahatii hai bedil duniyaa
yaa vo patthraa’ii hu’ii aaNkh kaa niilaa patthar
jis meN sadiiyoN ke tahayyur ke paRe hoN Dore

kyaa tujhe ruuh ke patthar kii zaruurat hogii
jis pe haq baat bhii patthar kii tarah girtii hai
ik vo patthar hai jise kahte haiN tahziib-e-safed
us ke mar-mar meN siyah Khuun jhalak jaataa hai
ik insaaf kaa patthar bhii to hotaa hai magar
haath meN teshaa-e-zar ho to vo haath aataa hai

jitne mayyaar haiN is daur ke sab patthar haiN
sher bhii raqs bhii tasviir-o-Ghinaa bhii patthar
mere ilhaam teraa zahn-e-rasaa bhii patthar
is zamaane meN har fan kaa nishaaN patthar hai
haath patthar haiN tere merii zubaaN patthar hai
ret se but na banaa ai mere achchhe fankaa

poem – le jardin

The lily’s withered chalice falls
Around its rod of dusty gold,
And from the beech-trees on the wold
The last wood-pigeon coos and calls.

The gaudy leonine sunflower
Hangs black and barren on its stalk,
And down the windy garden walk
The dead leaves scatter, – hour by hour.

Pale privet-petals white as milk
Are blown into a snowy mass:
The roses lie upon the grass
Like little shreds of crimson silk.

poem – louis napoleon

EAGLE of Austerlitz! where were thy wings
When far away upon a barbarous strand,
In fight unequal, by an obscure hand,
Fell the last scion of thy brood of Kings!

Poor boy! thou wilt not flaunt thy cloak of red,
Nor ride in state through Paris in the van
Of thy returning legions, but instead
Thy mother France, free and republican,

Shall on thy dead and crownless forehead place
The better laurels of a soldier’s crown,
That not dishonoured should thy soul go down
To tell the mighty Sire of thy race

That France hath kissed the mouth of Liberty,
And found it sweeter than his honied bees,
And that the giant wave Democracy
Breaks on the shores where Kings lay crouched at ease.