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مُفتِ خدا

3 اگست، 2016

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مُفتِ خدا

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خوابوں کی مُفت گاہ میں
نُظّار کا ہجوم ہے
تاریخ کے نام پر
قدیم جلوہ گاہوں،
نظریوں، عقیدوں اور فلسفوں کی
خرید و فروحت کُھلے بندوں جاری ہے
غلاموں اور کنیزوں کے ریوڑ ہانکے جا رہے ہیں
آقاؤں، پاشاؤں اور ملکاؤں کے ملبوساتی پیکر
ہر ٹی وی چینل کی اسکرین پر چمک رہے ہیں
قباچوں اور عباؤں کے درمیان
دلوں اور روحوں کی برہنگی پر کوئی قدغن نہیں
میں نہ ہوتے ہوئے بھی ہر کسی کو دکھائی دیتا ہوں
پورے لباس میں
میں چرا گاہوں کی گھاس ہوں
نہ بھیڑوں کی اون
میں ہوا کی طرح چلتا ہوں
اور خفیہ کیمروں کی زد میں آئے بغیر گزر جاتا ہوں
تارکول کی سڑکیں میرا کُھرکھوج محفوظ نہیں کرتیں
میرے فنگر پرنٹس وقت کی کسی دستاویز پر ثبت نہیں ہوتے
پھر بھی میرے ہاتھ کاٹ دیے جاتے ہیں
میرے جسم کی دیوار
زمین و آسمان کی حدوں سے تجاوز سمجھ کر گرا دی گئی ہے
میری بھوک کاغذی ہے
جو لفظوں کو دیکھ کر چمک اٹھتی ہے
میں قطار میں کھڑا، مفتِ خدا
میری باری آتے آتے
شاعری کی کھرچن بھی ختم ہو جاتی ہے
مجھے کھانے کا ٹوکن نہیں ملتا
میں آخری خواب سے بھوکا لوٹ آتا ہوں!

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2 Responses

  1. Munificence of God — Poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir

    In the free-abode of dreams
    there is a big gathering of assorted scenes
    In the name of history,
    the sale and purchase is in full swing openly,
    of the ancient amphitheaters,
    doctrines, beliefs and philosophies
    The hordes of slaves and concubines
    are being tended
    The beautiful ornate figurines of
    the masters, The Pashas and the Queens
    are glittering on every TV channel’s screen
    Inside the cloaks and the gowns
    there is no curb on the nudity of hearts and the souls
    I am seen in my full attire to everybody
    although I am nowhere,
    neither in the lush grass of the meadows
    nor in the wool sheared from the sheep
    I drift like the wind and
    pass through undetected by the CCTV cameras
    The roads made from the coal tar
    do not keep record of my pugmarks
    My fingerprints do not imprint
    on any manuscript of the, but still
    my hands are severed
    the sheer wall of my bodily abode
    is razed considering an encroachment
    to the limits of the Earth and the skies
    My hunger is erudite
    that has a craving for the words
    Standing in the queue, for the munificence of God
    even the leftover of the poetry
    on my turn comes to an end
    I do not get my meal-token
    Famished, I turn back
    even from the last dream!

    Poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
    Translated into English by Kamran Awan
    Copyrights (C) All rights reserved

  2. Munificence of God — Poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir

    In the free-abode of dreams
    there is a big gathering of assorted scenes
    In the name of history,
    the sale and purchase is in full swing openly,
    of the ancient amphitheaters,
    doctrines, beliefs and philosophies
    The hordes of slaves and concubines
    are being tended
    The beautiful ornate figurines of
    the masters, The Pashas and the Queens
    are glittering on every TV channel’s screen
    Inside the cloaks and the gowns
    there is no curb on the nudity of hearts and the souls
    I am seen in my full attire to everybody
    although I am nowhere,
    neither in the lush grass of the meadows
    nor in the wool sheared from the sheep
    I drift like the wind and
    pass through undetected by the CCTV cameras
    The roads made from the coal tar
    do not keep record of my pugmarks
    My fingerprints do not imprint
    on any manuscript of the time, but still
    my hands are severed
    the sheer wall of my bodily abode
    is razed considering an encroachment
    to the limits of the Earth and the skies
    My hunger is erudite
    that has a craving for the words
    Standing in the queue, for the munificence of God
    even the leftover of the poetry
    on my turn comes to an end
    I do not get my meal-token
    Famished, I turn back
    even from the last dream!

    Poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
    Translated into English by Kamran Awan
    Copyrights (C) All rights reserved

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

2 Responses

  1. Munificence of God — Poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir

    In the free-abode of dreams
    there is a big gathering of assorted scenes
    In the name of history,
    the sale and purchase is in full swing openly,
    of the ancient amphitheaters,
    doctrines, beliefs and philosophies
    The hordes of slaves and concubines
    are being tended
    The beautiful ornate figurines of
    the masters, The Pashas and the Queens
    are glittering on every TV channel’s screen
    Inside the cloaks and the gowns
    there is no curb on the nudity of hearts and the souls
    I am seen in my full attire to everybody
    although I am nowhere,
    neither in the lush grass of the meadows
    nor in the wool sheared from the sheep
    I drift like the wind and
    pass through undetected by the CCTV cameras
    The roads made from the coal tar
    do not keep record of my pugmarks
    My fingerprints do not imprint
    on any manuscript of the, but still
    my hands are severed
    the sheer wall of my bodily abode
    is razed considering an encroachment
    to the limits of the Earth and the skies
    My hunger is erudite
    that has a craving for the words
    Standing in the queue, for the munificence of God
    even the leftover of the poetry
    on my turn comes to an end
    I do not get my meal-token
    Famished, I turn back
    even from the last dream!

    Poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
    Translated into English by Kamran Awan
    Copyrights (C) All rights reserved

  2. Munificence of God — Poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir

    In the free-abode of dreams
    there is a big gathering of assorted scenes
    In the name of history,
    the sale and purchase is in full swing openly,
    of the ancient amphitheaters,
    doctrines, beliefs and philosophies
    The hordes of slaves and concubines
    are being tended
    The beautiful ornate figurines of
    the masters, The Pashas and the Queens
    are glittering on every TV channel’s screen
    Inside the cloaks and the gowns
    there is no curb on the nudity of hearts and the souls
    I am seen in my full attire to everybody
    although I am nowhere,
    neither in the lush grass of the meadows
    nor in the wool sheared from the sheep
    I drift like the wind and
    pass through undetected by the CCTV cameras
    The roads made from the coal tar
    do not keep record of my pugmarks
    My fingerprints do not imprint
    on any manuscript of the time, but still
    my hands are severed
    the sheer wall of my bodily abode
    is razed considering an encroachment
    to the limits of the Earth and the skies
    My hunger is erudite
    that has a craving for the words
    Standing in the queue, for the munificence of God
    even the leftover of the poetry
    on my turn comes to an end
    I do not get my meal-token
    Famished, I turn back
    even from the last dream!

    Poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
    Translated into English by Kamran Awan
    Copyrights (C) All rights reserved

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *