Tuesday, October 1, 2019



English Indian Poetry And Beyond

Poetry,  the noblest expression of human feelings, is the literary form which, more than any others, gathers and  in a few verses whose sound usually give rise to pure music, the  thoughts and motions of the human soul. Poetry unveils what other literary forms struggle to reveal.  Lover of poetry and solicited, since past times, from readings like Passage to India by Edward Morgan Foster, relating to the British domination in India, I often wondered if and how much, during that era  the  autochthonous poets were free to express their thoughts and feelings. It’s well known that the environment, the social conditions and  the  historical events strongly  exercise their influence not so much on forms or styles as on themes.

Contrary to all forms of colonialism, I believe that the only benefit that India has derived from the English domain is the introduction of their language as requested by the British government to make communication possible among  the relevant  number of the  dialects spoken. This has certainly meant  the opening of this great country to the world, beyond anything, for a major cultural exchange of considerable relevance.

The poetry written by the Indians in English in the last 150 years may be said has crossed three different phases: the imitative, the assimilative and the experimental.

During the imitative phase, which runs from 1850 to 1900, the Indian poets were mostly inspired by the British romantic poets like Wordsworth, Shelley, lord Gordon Byron  and some minor ones. During the second phase which goes from 1900 to 1947 the Indian poets still kept on grasping  from the new romantics of the decadent period and began  to show their nationalistic feelings along with the wish for political changes which led to the attainment of India political freedom in 1947.

The first phase of English Indian poetry marks the moment of the literary renaissance. The poems of Derozio, Manmohan Ghose and Michael Madhusudan are testimony of a creative upsurge derived from the romantic spirit of the great English poets. Toru Dutt is left alone to  celebrate India and her heritage by putting into verse a large number of Indian legends:

Hasten maidens, hasten away
To gather the leaves of the henna-tree.
The tilka's red for the brow of a bride
From in Praise of Henna

The poets of the second phase who have left their footsteps in the history of literature are Tagore, Sarejini Naidu,  Aurobindo Ghose. Some creative artists born  between the 1920 and 1940  were witness of bitter and violent struggles of patriots for the achievement of  liberty under the guidance of various political leaders. This was  the time  of   Mahatma Gandhi  who  so great a contribution gave to the cause of the Indian freedom  along with the affirmation of ancient cultural heritage. The Romanticism of the Indian poets was so loaded with nationalism, spirituality and mysticism. Their poetry expresses the ethos of the age.

And while Tagore was in search for the Beautiful in Men and Nature,  Sarojini Naidu stressed the charm and splendor of traditional Indian life and  scenes , Auribindo was in search for the Divine in Men:

He is lost in the heart, in the cavern of Nature,
He is found in the brain where He builds up the thought:
In the pattern and bloom of the flowers He is woven,
In the luminous net of the stars He is caught.

In the strength of a man, in the beauty of woman,
In the laugh of a boy, in the blush of a girl;

(From Who)

With the political independence in 1947 and the partition the era of hope and aspiration gave place to an era of questioning and the Indian writers conquered a new confidence to be critic of the present, the past and of themselves. They went on borrowing from the romantics but no longer from the Victorians but from Yeats, Eliot, Erza Pound and Auden-

The later phase of indian English poetry is the modern and post modern one which can be considered the output of the process of modernization, social change, the introduction of mass media.  After the independence, and partition, the Indian poets  entered the international, modern  world offering their distinctive contribution. The English language has fastened the process of modernization although Indianized in pronunciation, intonation, word order and syntax.

The Indian poets are nowadays nor exclusively Indian nor British but cosmopolitan.. They are realistic and intellectually critical, or just simply the expression of  thought felt. Their poems are surrealist, existentialist, thought provoking, psychologist.  Remarkable among the last ones  the works of Dalip Ketharpal that so much have in common with the Italian writer Pirandello.

Sometimes if a person
Identifies too closely
With the mask,
Consciousness of anything
Beyond social role and goal
Is blocked

From Musked/ Unmusked

Maria Miraglia
From The Editorial Desk



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ALICJA KUBERSKA: What does poetry mean to you?

VUQAR AKHMED: Poems - this is yesterday's, today's, tomorrow's feelings and relaxation of the soul for me. I write my poems, feeling everything around me...

ALICJA KUBERSKA: What’s according to you the meaning of poetry in the contemporary world?

VUQAR AKHMED: Poetry is the air …, our breathing , and  pleasure.

ALICJA KUBERSKA: Can you describe your creative process while writing a new poem?

VUQAR AKHMED: Nature..., events and my thoughts...

ALICJA KUBERSKA: Did it happen to you that a poem was just your dream?

VUQAR AKHMED: Poetry isn't my dream, it’s reality of soul, thoughts. I feel the world  and humanity through the  poetry.

ALICJA KUBERSKA: Tell us about your inspiration. What are the most important subjects to you?

VUQAR AKHMED: I don’t choose a theme. It finds me itself and never leaves me. I only write these thoughts on .

MARIA MIRAGLIA: Which were the emotions that inspired your first verses?

VUQAR AKHMED: Especially,  love, my motherland, and  different persons which I know.

MARIA MIRAGLIA: Was your aspiration to become a poet or did all happen by chance?

VUQAR AKHMED: I wasn’t going to be a poet, and now I do not consider myself a poet. Just writing the thoughts of my heart... of my soul  

MARIA MIRAGLIA: Who is the first person you read your poems to and why?

VUQAR AKHMED: First person was my mother, but now my family… especially my  daughter. Because my daughter is singer - master of Mugam ( our national music ), and she feels all my thoughts…from the beginning to the end.

MARIA MIRAGLIA: Have you published any poetic anthology, if so what did you feel the first time you got it in your hands?

VUQAR AKHMED: I author of  poetic books, besides that I wrote novel, stories also. The first publishing was  a Holiday of my soul. Poetry is my life and I got some peak  place on this way. I am Professor, Doctor of Philological  Sciences, the head of department  "History of Press  and Publisistics " Institute of Literature named after Nizami Ganjavi Azerbaijan National Academy of Sciences,   a member of the Writers' Union of Azerbaijan. All these are my world.

MARIA MIRAGLIA: Who are the poets you prefer reading? Do you get inspiration from them?

VUQAR AKHMED : I prefer good poems. If they are great, I will read them and all authors of good poems.  I am inspired by their thoughts.

APRILIA ZANK: How important is accessibility of meaning to you? Do you challenge the readers to work hard to decipher your poems, or do you prefer transparency of meaning?

VUQAR AKHMED: I think that if my poems would be interesting, the readers themselves will find my creativity and will enjoy from them always.

APRILIA ZANK: What kind of poems do you write mostly? Do you have recurring themes, or are all your poems unique?

VUQAR AKHMED: I was surrounded deferent kinds of events, thoughts, persons, and activities of people. That’s why I write different kinds of verses, there are   themes  which interesting for me and for my readers.

APRILIA ZANK: Do you think your poetry is typically feminine / masculine? If yes, in what way?

VUQAR AKHMED: There  is  no  gender   in poetry.

APRILIA ZANK: Do you write mostly about yourself, or do you also have an open eye /ear for the issues of the world?

VUQAR AKHMED: These are my feelings, these can belong to everything that covered  us.

APRILIA ZANK: In what way is your poetry different from that of other poets?

VUQAR AKHMED: This may be the difference in the point of view my thoughts and style.

LEYLA IŞIK: What are the main factors to make poetry real poetry?

VUQAR AKHMED: Feelings, deep  meanings and soul of poets.

LEYLA IŞIK: Do you think imagery is important in poetry? Where does the importance of imagery begin in a poem, where does it end?

VUQAR AKHMED: When poet write verses, imaginary, even, everything, must  happen its own.

LEYLA IŞIK: What are the most used types of poetry in your country?

VUQAR AKHMED: Different kinds  of types. And all these are   masterpiece of folk poetry. One of them is style by syllables, and many poets use it.

LEYLA IŞIK: What’s important to be a good poet? To write good poems!

VUQAR AKHMED: I think – being good poet! Because a good poet writes good poems. For writing  good poems every poet  need  have a deep thoughts, loving heart and a creative  soul.

LEYLA IŞIK: Who are the most important poets and their main properties nowadays?

VUQAR AKHMED: I don't want choosing, every poet has his/her skills on poetry. 

DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD: Understanding poetry begins with visualizing the central images in the poem. What do you see, taste, smell, hear, and feel? What is the imagery of your poetry?

VUQAR AKHMED:  There is no poet without feeling these …Every poet must mastered these.

DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD: What is the mood of your poetry? (Or How does it make you feel?)

VUQAR AKHMED: When I write poems, I am only in my world...in my poetry world.I and my thoughts...my soul....

DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD: In your poetry who is the speaker of the poem? Are you speaking to yourself or to others?


DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD: What is the message of your poetry? What messages do your poetry convey?

VUQAR AKHMED:  They are different. I  try send them to  the life, to the world, to  the heaven...

DEBORAH BROOKS LANGFORD: Does the internet and social media contribute to the success of your poetry? Is this the reason you write for?

VUQAR AKHMED: Of course, the Internet, social world help to spread my poems. To my readers, who are delighted, I express my gratitude.

NILAVRONILL SHOOVRO: Thank you so much dear poet for the interview. We would like to know your personal experience with OPA as a literary web journal. Would you like to share anything more with our readers?

VUQAR AKHMED: Of course dear poet. With great pleasure.

VUQAR AKHMED - poet, professor, born in 1963 in Azerbaijan - Baku. He graduated from the philological faculty of the ADPU, currently works at ANAS. Doctor of Philology, professor, member of the New York SA, member of the Union of Writers and Journalists of Azerbaijan, member  of  the Mugam Association of Russian-Derbend Unity. He is married, he has a daughter and a son.



It is  rainy my winter and spring ,
Plays sadly my string  Saz.
My flag is my prays place,
Sometimes laughed, sometimes cried ,
Azerbaijan .Azerbaijan .
We are Mejnun ,but she is Leyli ,
We  have sloping to  her .
Even The North and  the South   ,
Grow grey their hair ,
Azerbaijan , Azerbaijan .

Breathing with fresh air
My way is - to Savalan ,
I pray to Almighty ,
Saying Tabriz -Can ( means : dear )
Azerbaijan , Azerbaijan .

Wounded in wars
The lands are divided ,
It divided  into two places.
When they  will   join  up ?
Azerbaijan, Azerbaijan.

Sixty million related ,
Azeri  - Turkish brothers,
Even the tears were parted.
Almighty is in the heaven ,
Koran in the earth ,
Win, win , Azerbaijan.

Soul With Soul  - 
With Beloved

Love  - is fortune
İt is great happiness - to love
This is  so wonderful  -  being
Soul with soul with - beloved

Enjoying from the life ,
Inflame with  the love,
Feel you   so happy ...
Soul with soul  -with beloved ...

As the  mountain on sea
As  tears of  grief  on  the cheek .
Garden with paradise smell
Soul with soul with  - beloved .

The world is not cruel
Was lonely,  became couple .
Began  to dream with my beloved ,
Soul with soul with -  beloved.

My Heart Wants You

İ kiss your picture  with greedy ,
Remembering  those years ,
Those my seasons which passed...
How ,  İ  value them now.

I am afraid to lost all these ,
Getting  your smell from these ,
Every  times I say the words "dear"
İ respected  your honor always.

Picture of this couple is the  memory ,
When  that they were joy, but now grief.
Days passing  without you are useless
If you would know, how my heart wants you

I met with you on my sleeps ,
My fights argue with you
And  then I kiss you in peace
If you would know, how my heart wants you

He  Loves Me

Feeling ... that eyes
How  I enjoy   greatly ,
I atone for guilt
Because ... he loves me.

No malice for beloved ,
If would  lie me
I don't let   ... blush with shame
Because … he loves me.

My beloved , my beloved ,
How  can I  offended ...
Youth will pass in vain
Because ...   he loves me.

Love is wine I drank ,
So ,  I fell in love.
What was said ,  pardoned
Because ...  he loves me...

Would come days by days ,
End of love ...  is nice
I  love him also  ...
Because ...he loves me .

I Read The Hearts….

You aren’t faithful man as world
I feel it when looking to your eyes
To whom have you lied … to whom …
I read the hearts…. I’ м heart lover.

Lies became memory in your speech
changed to a liar … beloved, as you
I don’t want your approaching me
I read the hearts…. I’ м heart lover.
my soul needs guests …. like you
You would look like to pure spring
my sad tear flows to my cheek,
I read the hearts…. I’ м heart lover.
I take grieve closely in the heart
I grieved heavily without you
I take fog and mist with your grieve
I read the hearts…. I’ м heart lover.



VUGAR AKHMED - poet, professor, born in 1963 in Azerbaijan - Baku. He graduated from the philological faculty of the ADPU, currently works at ANAS. Doctor of Philology, professor, member of the New York SA, member of the Union of Writers and Journalists of Azerbaijan, member  of  the Mugam Association of Russian-Derbend Unity. He is married, he has a daughter and a son.



The  Redolence Of Soul

The  Redolence of Soul

The obscurity of time comes as night

And the night falls without light

But the soul squanders to cross

All the longings and frost.

He weeped not, he forgot not, he danced not

But he after things sought

The redolence of soul

To reach the entire whole.

Let my soul disentangles to touch you

Not a host of things alone but people few

To shed lights in their life.
(C) Welkin Siskin

Thou Shall Not Be
Consigned To Oblivion

Thou Shall Not Be Consigned to oblivion

Thou shall a fire make a furnace

And thou shall with every rosary of breath go

But thy hands these eager beings kiss

Even life in a fraction of time becomes so and so.

These callous inferno may thy life take,

And its flame may thy being swallow

And its devouring may a ghost thee make

With its untold brutality and clouds billow.

I shall not give in my hope that we shall meet

In the rising dawn of tomorrow.

Thou shall not be consign to oblivion.
(C) Welkin Siskin

To Whom
The Ancient Lyre Sings

The heavens do extract thy verse

And the ocean does a melody make

And the Time does to you nurse

And the shade does cast out the opaque.

Thou art the flame of vital fire

And the shade on which species rest.

Who does a symphony make of ancient lyre

And not an eye or a heart shall detest.

Thy beauty shall in no time age

And thy art shall bequeath a legacy of love

And tho’ the brutal hands of Time shall fade

Thy perfection bit by bit, thou art from above.

For what could a heavenly gift be for me?

Thine eyes of heart shall be an epitome.
(C) Welkin Siskin




Caged Bird

The wind bear down on me from behind
Mixed with the sounds of the wings
Don't need to care too much
That's not from my wings
Not from my companions too

The wind bypassed the wires and passed through the cage
Did not stop at all
It's me shouted at her
It's me handed over her the words of heart
But forgot
left words to her
Who should the message be handed over to?

Retreated to the nest in the cage
The blames from the entire of companions
But unable to resolve the imprisonment in my heart
Also couldn't face the gradually dying wing
I really wanted to sneak a peek
Who was fanning away from the wind?
Who was following the wind that is flying freely?

Snow Does Not Fall In My Hometown

When the moon stretched out its head in the gap between the clouds
The white light makes a silver world
The old hometown does not snow
Looking down the street from the second floor window
Street lights painted yellow on the brick surface
Street tree channeling high from the darkness
Leaves all fell due to the cold winter
Distorted branches towering into the sky
Songs of blessings come from far away
With the wings of imagination
simple-hearted leading the ride on the colored dragon
The wind whistled in the ears
The scaly claws of the dragon scratch the clenched hands
Candy hanging in the waist
By socks loopholes fall out
One second
Has been fleeing into the top of the cloud
Screaming over the head of Mom and Dad
Too late to lift their heads
They will be crazy shouting
Where to get the red boots
They must then pray
Let our baby daughter slow down

The Songs Always Weeping
As The Sun Is Going Down

Time always seems rushed and precise.
I couldn't help but watch the sun go down the mountain.
Like this highland,
Towering into the sky along the edge of the sea.
What kind of sound of nature will forget all of the warnings.
Mother was gradually drifting away
Yes, she will does eventually leave.
The song that should sound when the sun sets.
Keep silent.

Wind blowing over the farm.
Did not stop playing.
Why did I only hear the sound of the treetops?
Scratching my heart
Scratching my innermost being
Never asked me about the scars left behind
When to fix?
Naturally, you won’t ask.
Facing a delicate and frail girl like me.

A loving marriage,
Why was it so unbearable and fragile?
Tribulation of war, lingering shadow of death,
Forced to take everything away.
Why was everything so pale in my dreams?
But everything in everything,
the very thought of
That kiss has never been realized.
Until the last time we met.


Dr. TZEMIN ITION TSAI(蔡澤民博士) was born in Taiwan, in 1957. He holds a Ph.D. in Chemical Engineering and two Masters of Science in Applied Mathematics and Chemical Engineering. He is a scholar with a wide range of expertise, while maintaining a common and positive interest in science, engineering and literature. Dr. Tsai is not just an accomplished poet, he is an essayist, novelist, columnist, editor, translator, academic, engineer, mathematician, and so many other things. His literary creation specializes and expertise in the description of nature, the anatomy of emotion and humanity, life writing, graphic writing, cross-domain writing and so on. Dr. Tsai has carried out a number of educational research with the development of teaching materials in his country. He has won many national literary awards. His literary works have been anthologized and published in books, journals, and newspapers in more than 40 countries and translated into more than 20 languages. Tsai is a professor at Asia University(Taiwan), editor of Reading, Writing and Teaching academic text. He also writes the long-term columns for Chinese Language Monthly in Taiwan. There are many famous poets from different countries in the world through his Chinese translations and introductions were able to be recognized by the people of China.