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#Poetry ‘The Celestial Breeze’ by Fiza Pathan

May 8, 2013 By insaneowl 6 Comments

The Celestial Breeze

by Fiza Pathan

 

On a flying machine with metal wings, you rode towards the land of spring

You looked not once to wave your goodbye to the desert.

So now I am left all alone, your loving eyes no more to rest upon my face.

Since now the vacant heart asks for you, I look up to the open sky of blue,

Asking the God of the wind, to bring my Lord back to me.

 

Overlord and craftsman of the favourable zephyr

Whose blood is as fair as the snow white cloud.

I beg of you, bring back to this devotee her master

Because without him, I am in mourning.

I would rather spin my spindle to prick my life away,

Without the breeze to even smother my eyelashes.

Without my demigod I just cannot pull on,

Without my master I’d rather crumble beneath the ruins of my heart’s temple.

 

Oh God of the air current and subduer of the wicked,

Broken bonds you must tie fast now, before my name gives way to the whirlwind.

Without my owner this slave girl can’t breathe peacefully anymore.

I’d rather mingle with the atmosphere and fade away.

Return to me my Lord, who you took away from my sight,

These eyes want to garland his feet with pink blossoms and shedded tears.

Over my head is the eternal God of the tempest, below me is his creation.

Searching the landscape I have drifted to the conclusion,

Before this bride loses her vision let me behold my husband from his throne.

Without him I can’t no more love another,

The typhoon of my emotions breaks up inside of me.

 

God of the gale and Redeemer of the azure heaven,

Either blow me out like a candle or return my master to my abode.

Without his smile this virgin is withering all too soon,

The westerly wind will be a guide to eternal love.

A gust or a blast of air so fresh give to me oh heavenly Father,

Without my Master this servant is drinking from a thirsty cup of patience.

Nothing is left for me, everything has been taken by my Overseer

All he has left are sweet childish memories,

Of his hand in mine and his head touching mine.

 

God of the wind blow a tornado, blow a twister, blow a cyclone!

Bring back my Master to this mortal sinking fast.

Without a word I will bow down before his shrine,

Blow towards me on the carriage of the celestial breeze.

 

 

 

Filed Under: Poetry Tagged With: Fiza Pathan, poetry

Reader Interactions

Comments

  1. myblog1962 says

    May 9, 2013 at 3:31 am

    Loved the flow..

    Reply
    • insaneowl says

      May 9, 2013 at 2:33 pm

      Thank you for the appreciation 😀

      Reply
  2. matheikal says

    May 10, 2013 at 2:24 pm

    There is a mystic in you!

    Reply
    • insaneowl says

      May 10, 2013 at 2:55 pm

      I am humbled by your profound statement sir 😀

      Reply
  3. anjan roy says

    May 10, 2013 at 3:48 pm

    that’s magical…

    Reply
    • insaneowl says

      May 10, 2013 at 6:27 pm

      Thank you for the encouragement 😀

      Reply

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