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Me, home and loneliness, no more no less,
Ah, oh, utter darkness, no more nor less.

In birth, life, death, equity rules the same,
Suffering there’s endless, no more nor less.

A few saline tears flow caused by sore heart,
What heart held, eyes express, no more nor less.

In desert were buried my memories,
Whence my mind did retrace, no more nor less.

Our parting when sun departed that day, 
Hurt was on hurt I guess, no more no less.

Homilies that the world hail as Ghazal,
Some pens tend to caress, no more nor less.

Fine, if readers relate, draw parallel,
If not, it’d them depress, no more nor less.
____________________________ 
Inspired by a piece in Gujarati by Dikshhita Shah, no translation
Ghazal |21.12.2024|life, birth, death, tears

Poet’s note: The tears flown from eyes or dried down therein are like documents describing painful memories. If they were to be expressed in words, there’s nothing else like poetry. And in all poetic feelings expressed, there’s nothing to compare like ghazals, or to some extent sonnets. In ghazals a reader reads his own painful memories. The poet then disappears and what remains are pure experience of feelings. It means, in poetic words there’s not just fragrance of philosophy, but there’s that perfume, the painful scent of personal suffering as well. And yet, world often sees the light lit by the lamp in front of the photograph of the person lost, but not the darkness in the life of one who has lost the person.

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