Shaikh Mahmud

Shaikh Mahmud Poems

Somewhere here on this mortal land,
Existed a state with a barbaric head.

Where prejudice prevailed, rules were neglected;
...

Sitting by my study desk,
Gazing at the mirror, my 'self'.

Wandering in the turbulent thoughts,
...

Melodious dreams were soothing little Hans' sleep.
The clear clarion tone mingled with his slumber, deep.

The night rhymed delightful in the lee,
...

No sign of a blush, no stir in the air, in the solitary,
The man was still as he could be in the dark vicinity.

He flew from his heaven but received no further motion,
...

Deliberated with optimism,
To fight with destiny, to gain invincism.

Young liberated fell asleep full of deems,
...

I feel as if my soul is lost between the lines of solitude and despair,

And my heart wandering between the turbulent thoughts of my mind
...

Melancholic harp that concealed my bliss
Verve, vigour, my spiritual zest
Flee abyss with melodies thou say
Poetic nor ersatz yet the lulling breeze
...

O' flare of the thunderbolt,
Embrace the psalm of melancholy and woe
Surrender thy accord; Dance shall thou
Ascertain a path that transforms into gold
...

In the misty light and the comely clime
I found her beautiful spell

In the glittering stars and their alluring sight
...

The lust for luxury
All these profits worldly
The wants of treasury
And the longing lechery
...

Shaikh Mahmud Biography

A thinker-one with big dreams, who never gives up on what he wants to achieve and answers other men's arguments by stating the truth as he sees it.)

The Best Poem Of Shaikh Mahmud

The First Step

Somewhere here on this mortal land,
Existed a state with a barbaric head.

Where prejudice prevailed, rules were neglected;
Might ruled as right - poor owed dread.

But among the men; with suffering hearts,
A valiant gazes towards the brute,

With falcon's eyes - Ulysses's breast,
Near the savage approached the youth.

Before the edge of the sharpest sword
Steady, he stood by austere truth.

'When pen ousts the fright of sword,
Then people fear nadie but God.

No more the loot, ywis ye crook.
Enough, my tribe has faced the ruth! '

Those were the words of the stout,
That shamed unjust - provoked his crowd.

He fought for the people till his breath,
Thus harboured the revolt in their chests.

No else illumines the way for you,
Barriers are broken when tries the resolute.

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