Poem by Naqi Bokhari (Pakistan)
Moderator 
NAQI BOKHARI (PAKISTAN)
Naqi Bokhari's enchantment with poetry has blossomed over the course of nearly sixteen splendid years. He weaves poems in three languages: Punjabi, Urdu, and English. His roots, deeply embedded in the fertile soil of Jhang District, Punjab Pakistan, have nurtured his creative spirit. His native village Thatta Fazal Shah is nestled along the serene banks of the majestic river Chenab. The river holds the timeless tales of Heer Ranjha, a classic folklore that springs forth from this very land. He has recieved influences of several thinkers, artists, poets over the years with the spirit of learning and developing his theoretical understanding of the world and the realms of art. He is influenced by Karl Marx, George Orwell, Octavio Paz, Jaun Elia (Urdu Poet and Journalist from Karachi Pakistan), Nasir Kazmi (Urdu Poet and prose writer from Lahore) and Edward Said. There are, yet, several other names from all around the globe whom he hails for their great works in the fields of sciences, literature, philosophy and arts. He values the creative, analytical and fair critical thinking as the profoundest and most sublime manners of experiencing life. His quest for knowledge led him to the University of Punjab, Lahore, where he immersed himself in the captivating world of English Literature. Presently, he imparts the beauty of English Literature as a lecturer in The Orbit Instutute in Lahore. Beyond the realm of creation, he gracefully traverse the realms of translation, bridging the gap between cultures by rendering Urdu and Punjabi poems into the language of English. He is also translating world literature into his native languages such as Urdu and Punjabi.
THE ELEGY OF THE PRESENT
They choosed and imposed
barbarism upon us
They played the Orwellian tricks
but whom did they befooled!
To the mankind!
What did they finally made of us?
The dehumanized totality!
Dumb masses!
They normalized the violence
They glorified the dwarfish slavery
Modernity!
The terrible noise!
The shrieking cities of filth
The seas have become the gutters
The rivers are nauseating
and ill smelling
Water! Air!
The jungles have been burnt
The city sky is devoid of stars
Light is pollution
Culmination of the civilization
Woman is a commodity,
though the truth of yores
organ trafficking,
the ruling mafias,
the warlords,
the waged wars,
Blow!
Syria, the land of orphans
Jerusalem, where death mocks humanity
Iraq, the land of devasted glory
Afghanistan, the hell of fear,
the wounded mountains
Balochistan, the land of private prisons
and the lost sons
Punjab, the land of Deprived Dehkan*
Subcontinent, the lands of degenerated
Ethopia, the land of starved
Africa, the robbed home of the mankind
And millions of striving souls
The barren felicitations of the maniacs
Who care for nothing on earth
The pain would pierce every vain
The agony would prey on every home
The endless suffering would
walk through every nook and corner!
Spare your chests and laps for lamentation!
I ODE TO READING
I read and become
an illusion, a myth,
the roar of a warrior thrilling the battlefield,
the desperate cry of a lover's heart,
a tale of dying eye,
the spilling blood,
the conquering defeat,
the death chasing the helpless,
the bewailings of the mothers,
and the despair of the newlywed brides,
the loneliness of the widows,
the fear devouring the life,
an unending misery of the millions
dying out of imposed deprivation
an elegy of the time,
a melody of the blooming morns,
a poem of a wise creator,
a brook of perceptions,
a bird of freedom,
a beast of burden,
the sweat and blood
of the slave labourers,
A barn of dead corpses, burning and stinking
and what not!
I become what there is to be!
I read so I live,
I live a thousand lives
and meet a thousand ends
I read and live,
live to the fullest
I climb the 'Heights of Despair',
and roam the lands of joy and ecstasy
I ride the charriots of words and wander
the kingdom of truth,
the vales of dreams,
the meadows of beauty,
I bathe in the falls of the eternal romance
I am haunted in the deserts of history
by hate and violence
by fire and fury
I escape to the caves of primitive world
I carve the stones
and craft the timeless miniatures
I hunt, and dance
and worship a thousand gods
I swim through the rills of time
I go through the ages, cultures and regions
The cities rise and are burnt before my eyes
I witness a thousand blind follies of the man
his ruthlessness, his kindness,
his brilliance, his stupidity
The rivers turn into ink
I meet the sages living in solace
I lament the murdered intellect
Howmany time man has buried the life alive!
Often I get lost in the forest of confusions
and the verses guide me to my destiny,
to the centre of 'the Labryinth of Solitude'
I feed my soul upon the songs of silence.
Prepared Angela Kosta
