English Poems

[NorthernLights]

Robert Frost – Lodged

The rain to the wind said,
'You push and I'll pelt.'
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.

[DaZahroJaam.]

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Through the unknown, unremembered gate
When the last of earth left to discover
Is that which was the beginning;
At the source of the longest river
The voice of the hidden waterfall
And the children in the apple-tree
Not known, because not looked for
But heard, half-heard, in the stillness
Between two waves of the sea.
Quick now, here, now, always--
A condition of complete simplicity
(Costing not less than everything)
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well
When the tongues of flames are in-folded
Into the crowned knot of fire
And the fire and the rose are one.

[DaZahroJaam.]

Beloved, gaze in thine own heart,
The holy tree is growing there;
From joy the holy branches start,
And all the trembling flowers they bear.
The changing colours of its fruit
Have dowered the stars with merry light;
The surety of its hidden root
Has planted quiet in the night;
The shaking of its leafy head
Has given the waves their melody,
And made my lips and music wed,
Murmuring a wizard song for thee.
There the Loves a circle go,
The flaming circle of our days,
Gyring, spiring to and fro
In those great ignorant leafy ways;
Remembering all that shaken hair
And how the wingèd sandals dart,
Thine eyes grow full of tender care:
Beloved, gaze in thine own heart.

Gaze no more in the bitter glass
The demons, with their subtle guile,
Lift up before us when they pass,
Or only gaze a little while;
For there a fatal image grows
That the stormy night receives,
Roots half hidden under snows,
Broken boughs and blackened leaves.
For all things turn to barrenness
In the dim glass the demons hold,
The glass of outer weariness,
Made when God slept in times of old.
There, through the broken branches, go
The ravens of unresting thought;
Flying, crying, to and fro,
Cruel claw and hungry throat,
Or else they stand and sniff the wind,
And shake their ragged wings; alas!
Thy tender eyes grow all unkind:
Gaze no more in the bitter glass.

[DaZahroJaam.]

“Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World
The tall thought-woven sails, that flap unfurled
Above the tide of hours, trouble the air,
And God’s bell buoyed to be the water’s care;
While hushed from fear, or loud with hope, a band
With blown, spray-dabbled hair gather at hand.
Turn if you may from battles never done,
I call, as they go by me one by one,
Danger no refuge holds, and war no peace,
For him who hears love sing and never cease,
Beside her clean-swept hearth, her quiet shade:
But gather all for whom no love hath made
A woven silence, or but came to cast
A song into the air, and singing past
To smile on the pale dawn; and gather you
Who have sought more than is in rain or dew
Or in the sun and moon, or on the earth,
Or sighs amid the wandering starry mirth,
Or comes in laughter from the sea’s sad lips;
And wage God’s battles in the long grey ships.
The sad, the lonely, the insatiable,
To these Old Night shall all her mystery tell;
God’s bell has claimed them by the little cry
Of their sad hearts, that may not live nor die.

Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World!
You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled
Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring
The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.
Beauty grown sad with its eternity
Made you of us, and of the dim grey sea.
Our long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait,
For God has bid them share an equal fate;
And when at last defeated in His wars,
They have gone down under the same white stars,
We shall no longer hear the little cry
Of our sad hearts, that may not live nor die.

[DaZahroJaam.]

Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife
Throughout the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name..

[AgriculturalJake]

The earth turned to bring us closer,
it spun on itself and within us,
and finally joined us together in this dream
as written in the Symposium.
Nights passed by, snowfalls and solstices;
time passed in minutes and millennia.
An ox cart that was on its way to Nineveh
arrived in Nebraska.
A rooster was singing some distance from the world,
in one of the thousand pre-lives of our fathers.
The earth was spinning with its music carrying us on board;
it didn't stop turning a single moment
as if so much love, so much that's miraculous
was only an adagio written long ago
in the Symposium's score.


― Eugenio Montejo, The Trees: Selected Poems 1967-2004

[DaZahroJaam.]

They say the jackal and the mole
Drink from the self-same stream
Where the lion comes to drink.
And they say the eagle and the vulture
Dig their beaks into the same carcass,
And are at peace, one with the other,
In the presence of the dead thing.
O love, whose lordly hand
Has bridled my desires,
And raised my hunger and my thirst
To dignity and pride,
Let not the strong in me and the constant
Eat the bread or drink the wine
That tempt my weaker self.
Let me rather starve,
And let my heart parch with thirst,
And let me die and perish,
Ere I stretch my hand
To a cup you did not fill.
Or a bowl you did not bless

[DaZahroJaam.]

I.
No, foolish youth—To virtuous fame
If now thy early hopes be vow'd,
If true ambition's nobler flame
Command thy footsteps from the croud,
Lean not to love's inchanting snare;
His songs, his words, his looks beware,
Nor join his votaries, the young and fair.

II.
By thought, by dangers, and by toils,
The wreath of just renown is worn;
Nor will ambition's awful spoils
The flowery pomp of ease adorn:
But love unbends the force of thought;
By love unmanly fears are taught;
And love's reward with gaudy sloth is bought.

III.
Yet thou hast read in tuneful lays,
And heard from many a zealous breast,
The pleasing tale of beauty's praise
In wisdom's lofty language dress'd;
Of beauty powerful to impart
Each finer sense, each comelier art,
And sooth and polish man's ungentle heart.

IV.
If then, from love's deceit secure,
Thus far alone thy wishes tend,
Go; see the white-wing'd evening hour
On Delia's vernal walk descend:
Go, while the golden light serene,
The grove, the lawn, the soften'd scene
Becomes the presence of the rural queen.

V.
Attend, while that harmonious tongue
Each bosom, each desire commands:
Apollo's lute by Hermes strung
And touch'd by chaste Minerva's hands,
Attend. I feel a force divine,
O Delia, win my thoughts to thine;
That half the color of thy life is mine.

VI.
Yet conscious of the dangerous charm,
Soon would i turn my steps away;
Nor oft provoke the lovely harm,
Nor lull my reason's watchful sway.
But thou, my friend—i hear thy sighs:
Alass, i read thy downcast eyes;
And thy tongue falters; and thy color flies.

VII.
So soon again to meet the fair?
So pensive all this absent hour?
—O yet, unlucky youth, beware,
While yet to think is in thy power.
In vain with friendship's flattering name
Thy passion veils its inward shame;
Friendship, the treacherous fuel of thy flame!

VIII.
Once, I remember, new to love,
And dreading his tyrannic chain,
I sought a gentle maid to prove
What peaceful joys in friendship reign:
Whence we forsooth might safely stand,
And pitying view the lovesick band,
And mock the winged boy's malicious hand.

IX.
Thus frequent pass'd the cloudless day,
To smiles and sweet discourse resign'd;
While i exulted to survey
One generous woman's real mind:
Till friendship soon my languid breast
Each night with unknown cares possess'd,
Dash'd my coy slumbers, or my dreams distress'd.

X.
Fool that I was—And now, even now
While thus i preach the Stoic strain,
Unless i shun Olympia's view,
An hour unsays it all again.
O friend!—when love directs her eyes
To pierce where every passion lies,
Where is the firm, the cautious, or the wise?

[Arsh]

Caged Beast
By Arsh

----

His dominion resides endless
Red face, thorns twisted, crimson tongue
Eyes of black coal
Licks my wounds, my sweet friend

You take me back to that place
The source of my sweet dreams
God’s people coalesce
They say it’s the proper way

Your blood runs through my veins
I feel your presence
Your voice through the night
But the righteous rule sunrise

I rage constantly
I cannot stand their wretched form
The holy ones say it is their fruition
They are the blood of titans

The world will carry on in this way
I fight just to know you
You were always inside me
They want me to outgrow you

The pain is fair trade
For the beauty of a blood red sky
It is never easy
To stand side by side with you

I have come to understand
The darkness inside me
It leads itself to vibrant auras
Of magnificent first glow

The fire dims in my belly
Until I switch the electric light
Black African sustenance
Pours into my veins

Slowly I begin to close my eyes
And let the white light in the room surround me
The ceiling fan plays an ominous hum
I light a candle silently

I need this more than ever
To understand my soul
Otherwise the words won’t come

And no one would ever know

[Arsh]

LOC
by Arsh

They promised my family a good life
My two kids would eat and go to school
Crossover to the other side
And make our nation proud

When they came to me I was hungry
I had not eaten for days
This is our calling and our purpose
I looked into my daughter’s eyes
I looked into my daughter’s eyes

Through a mountain range I would make my way
(They look so much the same)
Snow falls lightly on my skin
(The differences between us)

My father’s land has dwindled in size
Amongst a family and low yield
Besides, it’s in our blood to fight
Mother blessed me with her tears
I look into my daughter’s eyes
I look into my daughter’s eyes

Through a mountain range I would make my way
(They look so much the same)
Snow falls lightly on my skin
(The differences between us)

I lie awake in bed at night
There is not time for fear
Send a letter to my sister
I am looking forward to her wedding

I have crossed over and have made my camp
I am now short of supplies
Tonight I will make my stand
My family will survive
I think about my daughter’s eyes
I think about my daughter’s eyes

I hear a bang, and yelling screaming
Waheguru’s on my side
For my country I make this stand
Allah my friend and companion

Now I bleed and have release
I will be called Shaheed
Now my promise has been fulfilled…
Will anyone remember?

The mountain side is silent again
They have sealed the border
Mothers, Sisters, Daughters cry

Long live our Soldier…

[BarakzaiAbdali]

Translated from the original Pashto:

Soul

My illness is untreatable, oh, my flower-like friend

My life is difficult without you, my flower-like friend
The village seems strange; this is separation as if my beloved has left it.
The grief of separation is so cruel that it is not scared of anyone;
When the soul does not leave the body it shakes.
Like a flower withering in the autumn,
Autumn has now come to my love.
I remain alone with my shaggy head of hair
Uncomprehending; my heart has been sad for a long time.
In a flash, it put a hole in my entire world;
Each affair is like an arrow.
Oh Faqir! Better be sad.
Who told you that love is easy?

[BarakzaiAbdali]

I keep the arrows of expectation in my heart like flowers;
My friend, I keep the lamp of hope lit for your coming.
I incite many lovers’ hearts to dance to the sound of my voice;
Always, like the nightingale, I keep the melody of grief in my heart.
Yet it is too young to be hurt; I am afraid it may hurt itself;
I will certainly safeguard this lion from the forest.
Even if time brings the ugliest revolutions,
I will keep the fold of my turban pious.
Sayyed! Even if I am destined to live in far away cities,
I will remain the rough Pashtun of the mountains.

[BarakzaiAbdali]

Once again screams are heard from the top of the mountain over there;
Screams are heard from each valley, from each peak.
Again, a knife is put to the young body;
Painful screams are heard from the knife.
Did a shepherd die or was the young shepherd blown up by a bomb?
Over there, screams are heard from the head of cattle.
God! Who has been brought, beheaded by the river?
Someone is taken to Bagram and labelled “Al-Qaeda”;
Screams are heard from the wings of the helicopter.
Leave us because you can’t even control yourselves;
Even if you cry out a hundred times that you are leader, O God!
The grief of Hejran will accompany him;
Screams are heard from the call of the ghazal.

[BarakzaiAbdali]

It seems to me that everything has changed,
It seems there is deception amidst our friendship.
I had gone with you sincerely
But your footsteps show you have taken the wrong path.
I don’t trust your admissions anymore,
Full of frauds, it seems you are a thief of the tamarisks.
Here, lamps are put out, darkness spreads;
Lamps are turned on in each of your houses.
Saqi! I desire intoxication, but don’t bring me more wine;
Your bottle is the murderer of love.

[BarakzaiAbdali]

Your flute’s sound is nostalgic,
O shepherd, troubled with the world’s civilisation. …
May your songs’ poems not run out on the journey,
May you not be hungry in the desert, my dear.