Quaid - Uz- Zaman Poems

This is inferno. It has let loose all the horrors.

We created it and loved or hated it.
...

Not a great work,
other than this act of dying!
To make an end of a beginning—
this, a journey, woven with shadows and light,
...

Everything I have, all borrowed and gifted;
And I owe to the small, high, and great.
Nothing is mine—innocence or crime—
And all that is acquired and inherited;
...

All the crowd is moving, each soul with its rhythm;
The solitary moon with its constellations, the lonely star,
Or a pulsar light-years distant—
All the clouds and the deserted ones,
...

Whatever I do, this or that is destined to happen,
According to Nature's laws, both mutable and immutable,
At His will.
The wind blows, changing its direction;
...

Every moment runs with the wheel of his labor.
His paddling rests on hunger and uncertainties,
earning a livelihood by churning blood into dew drops
glittering upon his forehead.
...