Bridge to Global Literature

Let’s all remember that more and more poetry gets lost without earnest attempts at translation.Read poetry here to get a glimpse of the rhythms and resonances of languages you don’t know.

Poems by Mohammad Rizwan Bhat

Jul 10, 2022 | Poetry | 0 comments


On the edge of a terrace,
Stood a woman-
Desolate, distressed and dismayed,
Even these may fall short
To sketch her state.
And numerous violent storms
Perturbed her mind.

With her heart pounding
As loud as thunder, she
Gathering a mountain of courage,
And with a smile on her face-jumped…
To set herself free-
From all her worries, her fears
And tormenting scars.

But on her way down-
The smirk turned into tears,
And the sense of freedom
Into a fierce scream.
She had left her agonies behind,
Yet realized, how precious
The gift of life is.
But alas! To undo the fall
’twas a little too late.



I am an old man,
Devoid of care and respect.
My children, my careless children,
Apathetic of loving me, yet,
Have kept me, to boast of their kind hearts.
I am haunted, not by my state,
But looking at them,
How poor!
I am an old man,
I am “literature”!
From Canterbury Tales to King Lear,
I was respected,
By Chaucer, Keats, Sylvia and Shakespeare.
How bright were the days,
How serene the nights.
I giggled in the lap of Manto,
I relished the moments with Blake.
I remember,
I was the crown,
On the head of Ghalib, Iqbal, Mir and Jaun.
I was loved like an infant,
I was “Literature”!

O! The self-proclaimed
Wordsworths, Shakespeares, Jauns and Ghalibs
I am Literature,
Mighty enough to launch a thousand ships,
Mighty enough to destroy Macbeth and Faustus.
Melodious enough to be music to your ears!
You are but a speck of dust,
Against my legacy.
I am a powerful young man,
I am Literature!



Now that you are away,
Nature no more feels kind.
The cloud, the paddy and the wind-
No more here,
Smile at me, soothe my heart or cuddle with me.
As they did, when you were here.

Now that you are away,
The cloud, like a ferocious lion-
Growls in anger,
Eager to pounce on its prey,
And tear it apart.

Now that you are away,
The paddy, like a thousand arrows-
Ready to be shot,
And slash my heart into a million pieces.

Now that you are away,
The wind, like that old stern shopkeeper-
Whizzing with heavy breath,
Annoyed by knavish kids,
And his hand held up,
To slap my face.

Now that you are away,
Nature no more feels kind.


Also read:

For the Love of Exaggeration and Other Poems – Rizwan Akhtar

Mohammad Rizwan Bhat hails from Watapora village of district Bandipora. He is pursuing Honors in English Literature from Cluster University, Srinagar. The author writes poems and articles which have been published in various newspapers and journals.


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