by Muhammad Shanazar
More significant than the rise and fall,
More important than the historic events,
More woeful than pathetic deaths,
May we find occurring around us,
Unheeded, though trivial to the minds,
Yet gruesome to the unsealed eyeing hearts.
Once aimless loitering through the forest,
Brought me to the blazing smoky spot,
Where wild flames were leaping up,
Encircling patches of the withering grass,
And barky beds of dry palm needles.
My eyes captured a sight too horrible,
A tragedy performed away from the stage,
Beyond the sight of human busy eyes,
With no audience to applaud the struggle,
Or grieve at unjust agonizing infliction.
A black partridge was fighting in panic,
Against the callous besieging yellow flames,
Each time belittling from all around,
The bird jumped to ward off the calamity,
As hapless men wheedle misfortune,
But in vain retreat with the gait reverse,
And when no one rescues, fight alone.
Why it flies not, I wondered much,
To save the life, with the wings intact,
Relentless flames encroached instantly,
And burnt bones, flesh and feathers.
Curiosity took me then to the dismal spot.
Ah! What a doleful thing I had to behold,
The belly seething with the burnt blood,
The motherhood all black, sooty smoked,
Lay singed among the seven babe birds,
Like steaks too carbonized to be eaten.
When the victimizing gluttonous flames,
Rushed far away, I heard the weeping voices,
Of the sappy sticks of burning youngs,
Protesting against being blazed too soon.
Last updated July 10, 2011