Final sips bring silence to the space, And empty cups leave new connections formed....
Poems forever
By Faiz Ahmed Faiz
This is the way that autumn came to the trees:
it stripped them down to the skin,
left their ebony bodies naked.
It shook out their hearts, the yellow leaves,
scattered them over the ground.
Anyone could trample them out of shape
undisturbed by a single moan of protest.
The birds that herald dreams
were exiled from their song,
each voice torn out of its throat.
They dropped into the dust
even before the hunter strung his bow.
Oh, God of May have mercy.
Bless these withered bodies
with the passion of your resurrection;
make their dead veins flow with blood again.
Give some tree the gift of green again.
Let one bird sing.
From The True Subject by
Faiz Ahmed Faiz, translated by Naomi Lazard.
By Tooba Samad
They do not cry aloud,
Not because it does not hurt them,
But because crying has never changed
what ignores them.
Their tears fall where no one photographs:
cracked roads,
long waits,
unfinished hopes.
Stop considering yourself glass.
You do not need to break every day
just to prove that you are fragile.
Sometimes breaking once, deeply,
makes a soul unbreakable.
What needs no effort
loses its value very fast.
Why drink the whole sea
when you already know it is salty?
Why rely on someone
you know is not made for you?
Ignored souls ask these questions in silence.
They answer them alone.
Those who cry are rarely remembered,
But their absence screams.
If you want attention,
The world sets a cruel rule:
first disappear.
Even stones are respected
only after they are buried.
Some lives are neglected simply because they are here.
Die first, then the world notices.
By Abid Agha
An aromatic brown layer upon a crest of white,
A quiet storm that warms the winter chill,
It falls like dust of copper and of light,
To make the quiet, wet evening burning bright.
One tiny shake, and suddenly the steam
Carries a guest of autumn in the breeze,
A brief awakening from a heavy dream,
Whispering tales of spice and ancient trees.
Here she arrives, breaking the silence,
No ordinary coffee, s’il vous plaît,
A perfect blend to ease the winter rain,
As porcelain cups are set upon the tray.
Crowned with velvety and creamy foam,
The soothing notes of cinnamon take hold,
And spiced infusion makes the spirit bold,
Final sips bring silence to the space,
And empty cups leave new connections formed.
