Poems by Mohammad Mohi Uddin
In the absence of love, human lives move on with ferocity,
Thirst of amour can turn into tearful orison.
Who could provide such a peaceful assignation as I did?
There was none who would be capable to tie up the necklace of grassy love on abandoned throat?
Coming out the sigh where they vanish,
That sky was the only deed of romance between you and I;
That you’re the mere possessor of a poor bedstead –
Even only for the midnight!!
Why have I not realized the story of your penance?
Every story needs not to be narrated from the storyteller, even life’s tale also!
Them falling off leaves, troublous wave of addled water,
Glaring land of drought, the sparking flame of kiln,
The thunder of the cerulean, showery – rainy night,
Them all are the symbolic voice of life.
The length of life is as like as twinkling of eyes
Thus, I perceived your molten existence before I ask for.
Yet- don’t place wailing in the bottom of heart!
Everyone’s life is pathetic – painful alike Anabus,
Every wound is to be observed with self-eyes-
Unto the last breath consumed.
The Aloof Sky in Sight
Abruptly, when I’m drowned in distress,
I hold on my eyes at the high;
Whereas all pleasures step in crossing entire kiddle,
I throw the ray of sight at aloof sky.
Dreams illustrate their diagram
In the heart of immense heaven;
I mingle accusations and frowns
With attention in navy yard.
Revolted, optimistic, awaiting, corroborated I-
fly in the atmosphere crossing the stream of loneliness!
Tell me! In what reliance; I float the boat-
In the ruthless ocean of mankind?
Take the photograph down
Hyacinth girl, you’re the surrogate name of beauty,
Pronounced hymns in favor of you in the lustrous horizon,
Wild Shamoli is the golden pleasant of the modern stage!
Each and every subdivision is melodious with the clop of anklet today!
Cities awaken by the demon’s howl; Yet let the increment to be delighted.
Have gusto in digging burial – let the caravan of politics to be glittered!
Switch pressed finger of trigger is the creative son of the nation,
The angel, of my town, is exalted with the glory of blood.
The extensive dyad unclad pix of billboards,
The ripple of easeful merciless laughter,
Being rain of satisfaction moistens people’s heart!
In the name of art, organisms swing on TV screen,
The scarf is kiting, pushing soften lace of dress, breasts are displaying
Sofa, unborn infant, refrigerator, doorway and homeland is being purified.
Only take down the photograph of bards,
Them, are the absolute miscreants of 56 thousands square miles.