There is no meaning in living—I don't say this.
There is meaning for some, may be for all—may be a perfect meaning.
Yet I hear the white sound of wind-driven birds
In the water of the distant seas
beneath the burning summer sun.

The candle burns slowly, very slowly, on my table;
The books of intellect are more still—unwavering— lost in meditation;
Yet when you go out on to the streets
or even while sitting by the window side
Will you sense the frenzied dance of violent waters;

Right beside that a book of your cheeks; no more like a lantern,
Perhaps like a conch-shell lying on the beach as if ocean's father
It is also a music by his own merit—like Nature:
caustic—lovable—finally like the most favourite entity.

So I get the taste of expansive wind in the airing
of maddening grievances;
Otherwise in the mind's forest the python coils up around the doe:
I feel the pitiable hint of a life like that in the Sceptre of protest.
Some glacier-cold still flock of Cormorants will realize my words;
When the electric-compass of life will cease
They will eat up snow-grey sleep like polar seas in endless grasp.

[Translated by Faizul Latif Chowdhury]

About Zia Fatehabadi

Zia Fatehabadi (Urdu: ضیاء فتح آبادی ) (Hindi: ज़िया फ़तेहाबादी ), born Mehr Lal Soni (Urdu:مهر لال سونی ) (Hindi: मेहर लाल सोनी ), was a renowned Urdu ghazal and nazm writer. He was a disciple (shaagird) of Syed Aashiq Hussain Siddiqui Seemab Akbarabadi (1882–1951) who was a disciple of Nawab Mirza Khan Daagh Dehlawi. He took on the takhallus (nom de plume) of Zia meaning "Light" on the suggestion of his teacher, Ghulaam Qadir Farkh Amritsari. Early Life Mehr Lal Soni Zia Fatehabadi was born on 9 February 1913, at Kapurthala, Punjab, as the eldest son of Munshi Ram... Read more...

Poet of the day

Richard Chenevix Trench was born on September 9, 1807, North Frederick Street, Dublin, Ireland. His father was Richard Trench, his mother Melesina, only grandchild and heiress of Richard Chenevix, Bishop of Waterford, and widow of Colonel St. George. Trench’s home in childhood was Elm Lodge, close to the village of...

Poem of the day

I have come far enough
from where I was not before
to have seen the things
looking in at me from through the open door

and have walked tonight
by myself
to see the moonlight
and see it as trees

and shapes more fearful