Recitation of poetry is deeply regarded for expressing your true feelings. It has been observed that Urdu poets in the past used to say poetry that depicts the social, cultural surroundings of their era. Last Updated on Sunday, October 14 2018 ... Read more
Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers--- And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows; The young birds are chirping in the nest; The young fawns are playing with the shadows; The young flowers are blowing toward the west--- But the young, young children, O my brothers, They are weeping bitterly!--- They are weeping in the playtime of the others In the country of the free. Do you question the young children in the sorrow, Why their tears are falling so?--- The old man may weep for his to-morrow Which is lost in Long Ago--- The old tree is leafless in the forest--- The old year is ending in the frost--- The old wound, if stricken, is the sorest--- The old hope is hardest to be lost: But the young, young children, O my brothers, Do you ask them why they stand Weeping sore before the bosoms of their mothers, In our happy Fatherland? They look up with their pale and sunken faces, And their looks are sad to see, For the man's grief abhorrent, draws and presses Down the cheeks of infancy--- 'Your old earth,' they say, 'is very dreary;' 'Our young feet,' they say, 'are very weak! Few paces have we taken, yet are wearyÑ Our grave-rest is very far to seek. Ask the old why they weep, and not the children, For the outside earth is cold,--- And we young ones stand without, in our bewildering, And the graves are for the old. 'True,' say the young children, 'it may happen That we die before our time. Little Alice died last year---the grave is shapen Like a snowball, in the rime. We looked into the pit prepared to take her--- Was no room for any work in the close clay: From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her Crying, 'Get up, little Alice! it is day.' If you listen by that grave, in sun and shower, With your ear down, little Alice never cries!--- Could we see her face, be sure we should not know her, For the smile has time for growing in her eyes--- And merry go her moments, lulled and stilled in The shroud, by the kirk-chime! It is good when it happens,' say the children, 'That we die before our time.' Alas, alas, the children! they are seeking Death in life, as best to have! They are binding up their hearts away from breaking, With a cerement from the grave. Go out, children, from the mine and from the city--- Sing out, children, as the little thrushes do--- Pluck your handfuls of the meadow-cowslips pretty--- Laugh aloud, to feel your fingers let them through! But they answer, 'Are your cowslips of the meadows Like our weeds anear the mine? Leave us quiet in the dark of the coal-shadows, From your pleasures fair and fine! 'For oh,' say the children, 'we are weary, And we cannot run or leap--- If we cared for any meadows, it were merely To drop down in them and sleep. Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping--- We fall upon our faces, trying to go; And, underneath our heavy eyelids drooping, The reddest flower would look as pale as snow. For, all day, we drag our burden tiring, Through the coal-dark, underground--- Or, all day, we drive the wheels of iron In the factories, round and round. 'For, all day, the wheels are droning, turning,--- Their wind comes in our faces,--- Till our hearts turn,---our head, with pulses burning, And the walls turn in their places--- Turns the sky in the high window blank and reeling--- Turns the long light that droppeth down the wall--- Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling--- All are turning, all the day, and we with all.--- And, all day, the iron wheels are droning; And sometimes we could pray, 'O ye wheels,' (breaking out in a mad moaning) 'Stop! be silent for to-day!' ' Ay! be silent! Let them hear each other breathing For a moment, mouth to mouth--- Let them touch each other's hands, in a fresh wreathing Of their tender human youth! Let them feel that this cold metallic motion Is not all the life God fashions or reveals--- Let them prove their inward souls against the notion That they live in you, os under you, O wheels!--- Still, all day, the iron wheels go onward, Grinding life down from its mark; And the children's souls, which God is calling sunward, Spin on blindly in the dark. Now, tell the poor young children, O my brothers, To look up to Him and pray--- So the blessed One, who blesseth all the others, Will bless them another day. They answer, 'Who is God that He should hear us, White the rushing of the iron wheels is stirred? When we sob aloud, the human creatures near us Pass by, hearing not, or answer not a word! And we hear not (for the wheels in their resounding) Strangers speaking at the door: Is it likely God, with angels singing round Him, Hears our weeping any more? 'Two words, indeed, of praying we remember, And at midnight's hour of harm,--- 'Our Father,' looking upward in the chamber, We say softly for a charm. We know no other words except 'Our Father,' And we think that, in some pause of angels' song, God may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather, And hold both within His right hand which is strong. 'Our Father!' If He heard us, He would surely (For they call Him good and mild) Answer, smiling down the steep world very purely, 'Come and rest with me, my child.' 'But no!' say the children, weeping faster, 'He is speechless as a stone; And they tell us, of His image is the master Who commands us to work on. Go to!' say the children,---'Up in Heaven, Dark, wheel-like, turning clouds are all we find. Do not mock us; grief has made us unbelieving--- We look up for God, but tears have made us blind.' Do you hear the children weeping and disproving, O my brothers, what ye preach? For God's possible is taught by His world's loving--- And the children doubt of each. And well may the children weep before you; They are weary ere they run; They have never seen the sunshine, nor the glory Which is brighter than the sun: They know the grief of man, but not the wisdom; They sink in man's despair, without its calm--- Are slaves, without the liberty in Christdom,--- Are martyrs, by the pang without the palm,--- Are worn, as if with age, yet unretrievingly No dear remembrance keep,--- Are orphans of the earthly love and heavenly: Let them weep! let them weep! They look up, with their pale and sunken faces, And their look is dread to see, For they mind you of their angels in their places, With eyes meant for Deity;--- 'How long,' they say, 'how long, O cruel nation, Will you stand, to move the world, on a child's heart, Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation, And tread onward to your throne amid the mart? Our blood splashes upward, O our tyrants, And your purple shows yo}r path; But the child's sob curseth deeper in the silence Than the strong man in his wrath!' Elizabeth Barrett Browning
Urdu Poetry – Poetry is the language of heart. Emotions and feelings take the shape of words and are delivered in a poetic manner. Urdu poetry draws its existence from past 18th and 19th century which are rich in tradition and composed in various forms. Most of the Urdu poetry derives from Arabic and Persian origin. From time immemorial, Urdu poetry has been written and narrated by renowned poets of all times. Urdu poetry is enriched with such true emotions and feelings. It has been observed that Urdu poets in the past used to say poetry that depicts and highlights the social, cultural issues of their era.
The poets used Urdu poetry as a medium of expression to put their thoughts forward for the readers. The Urdu poets are known for reviving romance, culture, social & political issues in the form of Urdu poetry collections. Urdu poetry is considered as an integral part of Pakistani culture. Our history is rich with numerous poetry collections from renowned poets like Mirza Ghalib, Allama Iqbal, Mir Dard, Mir Taqi Mir, and the list goes on. Allama Iqbal and Mirza Ghalib are considered to be the flag barrier of Urdu poetry. Iqbal Urdu poetry is based on philosophy, love, and for encouraging Muslims of India. Mirza Ghalib is regarded as the greatest Urdu poets of all times. They have contributed incredibly in the form of Ghazal, Hamd, Nazm, Ruba’i, Shayari and much more. Apart from them, Mir Taqi Mir and Mir Dard are known for romantic and sad Urdu poetry. Several other maestros of Urdu Poetry have been passed who added some valuable pearls and gems to the poetic collections from time to time.
Urdu poetry has evolved and revolutionized from time to time. Previously tough Persian and Arabic words are used for narrating the Urdu poetry. Later use of simpler Urdu words have taken over and are used more oftenly. Poets like Ahmed Faraz, Parveen Shakir, Faiz Ahmed Faiz have added some valuable Urdu poetry collection that are loved and praised by masses to date. New subject matter, themes are used by new poets that has modernized Urdu Poetry. The various forms of Urdu Poetry available for the readers includes Ghazal, Hamd, Marsiya, Naat, Nazm, Qasida, Masnavi, Naat, Qawalli, Ruba’i, Shayari and much more. The poetry lovers can stock their libraries and houses with the enormous treasure of Urdu poetry. The collection of Urdu Poems in the form of Dewan and Kuliyat are preferred by those who have a taste for traditional poetry. Allama Iqbal and Mirza Ghalib have immense contribution to the Urdu poetry.
The Urdu poetry collection of Ghalib and Iqbal are researched, read and shared by masses worldwide.The modern Urdu poets possess a progressive and practical state of mind that is far from the narration of female beauty and romance. Urdu Ghazals has been associated with emotions earlier, but now the trends are changing to give it a completely new domain of expression. Many Urdu poets become popular because of their Romantic poetry include Ghazal Ahmed Faraz, Habib Jalib, Sagar Siddiqui, Muneer Niazi, Mohsin Naqvi, Farhat Abbas Shah and many others.
The archive of HamariWeb provides the evergreen Urdu poetry collection for the viewers. Some of the finest gems of Urdu Shayari are Munir Niazi, Allama Iqbal, Faiz Ahmed Faiz, Ahmed Faraz, Mirza Ghalib, Habib Jalib, Parveen Shakir, John Elia, Syed Wasi Shah to name a few. You can even search, post, read, and share the Urdu poetry based on various genres that includes Eid poetry, sad poetry, patriotic poetry, love poetry, rain poetry, mother poetry, Islamic poetry etc. People with great taste in poetry are glued to this page. Find some of the finest and latest collection of Urdu poetry on HamariWeb.