Laaltain

شاعری زمین کا پھول ہے

15 اگست، 2016

[vc_row full_width=”” par­al­lax=”” parallax_image=“”][vc_column width=“2/3”][vc_column_text]

شاعری زمین کا پھول ہے

[/vc_column_text][vc_column_text]

شاعری زمین کا پھول ہے
آسمانوں پر رہنے والے
شاعر نہیں ہوتے
آسمانوں میں کیا ہے
نہ ہوا نہ مٹی
نہ دھوپ نہ پانی
آسمانوں کے پاس جو تھوڑی بہت خاک تھی
جب اسے گارا بنایا گیا
اور اس میں روح پھونکی گئی
تو اس پر محبت کے پھول
اور ذائقوں کے پھل آنے لگے
اور وہ بود و باش کے لیے زمین تلاش کرنے لگی
مٹی کو آخر کار مٹی میں پناہ ملتی ہے
آسمان اسے قبول نہیں کرتا
آسمان پر روحیں ہوتی ہیں
جسم نہیں
اور شاعری کے لیے
جسم ضروری ہے
شاعری فرشتوں پر نہیں انسانوں پر اترتی ہے!

[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][vc_column width=“1/3”][vc_column_text]
[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row][vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text]

[/vc_column_text][/vc_column][/vc_row]

2 Responses

  1. The poet­ry is an Earth­ly flower

    The poet­ry is an Earth­ly flower
    Those dwelling in the heav­ens
    can­not be a poet
    What is there up in the skies?
    no waft, no clay
    nei­ther the sun­shine
    nor the water
    When the lit­tle quan­ti­ty of the clay,
    up there in the heav­ens
    was trans­formed into a slur
    and the soul was blown into it
    it began to blos­som with the love
    and to bear fruits of taste
    and it start­ed look­ing towards the Earth
    for its habi­tat
    “for dust thou art
    and unto dust shall thou return”
    The dust isn’t wel­come up in the skies
    there dwell only the souls, not the bod­ies
    and for the poet­ry to tran­spire
    a body is need­ed
    The poet­ry descends on the humans
    not on angels…!

    Eng­lish trans­la­tion by Kam­ran Awan

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.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

2 Responses

  1. The poet­ry is an Earth­ly flower

    The poet­ry is an Earth­ly flower
    Those dwelling in the heav­ens
    can­not be a poet
    What is there up in the skies?
    no waft, no clay
    nei­ther the sun­shine
    nor the water
    When the lit­tle quan­ti­ty of the clay,
    up there in the heav­ens
    was trans­formed into a slur
    and the soul was blown into it
    it began to blos­som with the love
    and to bear fruits of taste
    and it start­ed look­ing towards the Earth
    for its habi­tat
    “for dust thou art
    and unto dust shall thou return”
    The dust isn’t wel­come up in the skies
    there dwell only the souls, not the bod­ies
    and for the poet­ry to tran­spire
    a body is need­ed
    The poet­ry descends on the humans
    not on angels…!

    Eng­lish trans­la­tion by Kam­ran Awan

Leave a Reply

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