Sweet to me was not the voice of man, But the wind’s voice was understood by me. The burdocks and the nettles fed my soul, But I loved the silver willow best of all.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 17, 2020 | Created on June 17, 2020
But here, in the murk of conflagration, where scarcely a friend is left to know we, the survivors, do not flinch from anything, not from a single blow. Surely the reckoning will be made after the passing of this cloud. We are the people without tears, straighter than you … more proud…
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 17, 2020 | Created on June 17, 2020
I am not one of those who left the land to the mercy of its enemies. Their flattery leaves me cold, my songs are not for them to praise.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 17, 2020 | Created on June 17, 2020
Now no one will listen to songs. The prophesied days have begun. Latest poem of mine, the world has lost its wonder, Don’t break my heart, don’t ring out.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 17, 2020 | Created on June 17, 2020
Give me bitter years of sickness, Suffocation, insomnia, fever, Take my child and my lover, And my mysterious gift of song — This I pray at your liturgy After so many tormented days, So that the stormcloud over darkened Russia Might become a cloud of glorious rays.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 17, 2020 | Created on June 17, 2020
Natural thunder heralds the wetness of fresh water high clouds to quench the thirst of fields gone dry and parched, a messenger of blessed rain, but this was as dry as hell must be. My distraught perception refused to believe it, because of the insane suddenness with which it sounded, swelled and hit, and how […]
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 17, 2020 | Created on June 17, 2020
A multi-colored crowd streaked about, and suddenly all was totally changed. It wasn’t the usual city racket. It came from a strange land.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 17, 2020 | Created on June 17, 2020
All has been looted, betrayed, sold; black death’s wing flashed ahead.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 17, 2020 | Created on June 17, 2020
Why is this century worse than those others? Maybe, because, in sadness and alarm, It only touched the blackest of the ulcers, But couldn’t heal it in its span of time.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 17, 2020 | Created on June 17, 2020
No-one was more cherished, no-one tortured Me more, not Even the one who betrayed me to torture, Not even the one who caressed me and forgot.
Read More...by Suhel Ahmad | Last Updated on June 17, 2020 | Created on June 17, 2020