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Pashto Poetry
Hell
It is the measure of man’s eye - The black and the white; The fancy of man’s tongue - Both milkweed and honey. The tapping of my fingertips, A soft arm and smooth cheek - These songs of my spirit, Flowery and sweet. My God has made this Colorful wine from water; For some a sea of wine Is a droplet of zamzam; For some a sea of zamzam Is a glum evening of sorrow; To some a small white candle Stands bright as the moon; Some hear the message of Gabriel From the red lips of the beloved. One crown turns crimson with blood; Some throne blackened by night; One found it on the cross; The other on a red silken pillow; Some discover, like Moses, In a lifeless idol the face of the beloved - One turns it into dread and tears, The other into beauty and spirit. Some from a flower, from a child’s face, Create the lips of love; Some find it by the narcissus, Some among thorny bushes. Happy the man who went Laughing to the lap of his love - Some tear from the bridal dress A coffin for the beloved. Lord! Lord! My lord! I’m maddened by reflections - How can I curse and tyrannize The spring and crimson flowers. How can I lend the Mullah an ear And forget the lark and bulbul; How upon your grace and light Can I cast the veil of ugliness! Turn the white morning of laughter To a dark eve and tomb? Turn man’s despair to The red joy of afterlife? From the fakir’s intrepidity Create a king’s drunkenness? From the fire and might of hell Delineate your grace? How can I believe you made This world and the skies for this - When Khayyam is driven by force To the pilgrimage of ka’aba? This heart so full of spirits was Made just to harbor doubts? Were beauty and love spun out As a tale of retribution? You made out of your grace Beauty and doting; The shade of your under-plumes Is soft and colorful at each sundown. You laughed that the rose’s color Was borne away on a butterfly’s wing; In your hand, Khayyam’s goblet Took away abandon and love. How do I bother Ghani with The end and the judgment day? Imbue spite in a bulbul’s heart For springtime and flowers? How can I lay the shawl of a vassal On the fair face of Laila? Fulfill the longing of a Negro With the presence of a fairy? How can I turn over to the hand Of the beloved the dagger of betrayal? How can I sink in a dark well The secret of enamored eyes? How can I submerge a beautiful world In a single drop of night; How can I turn the glow Of candlelight to ashes! Lord! Lord! My lord! I’m maddened by reflections How can I curse and tyrannize The spring and crimson flowers! ..................................... Da Adam de Nazar tul de ke da tor de,ka da speen De Adam de jabe khayal de De soplma yo angabeen ...... Nu sanga omanum th jor ku da jahan ao asmaan dy la chi khayyam rawan pa zor ki tawafonu la ka'abi la Raba Raba zama Raba Liwany shum pa fikrono Abdul Ghani Khan |
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pushto language has very deep.......
dear adnan
Its very nice of u that u embark on something new project and this time u have posted pushto poetry.Really, the poetry of pushto is full of profound thoughts.hope u continue this to share with such deep thought with us. Allah hafiz Surely, God helps those who strive for the goodwell of his fellows. |
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