مُفتِ خدا

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 © 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 © All rights reserved