Poems by Ayub Khawar / Translated by Muhammad Shanazar

Poems by Ayub Khawar

 

The Tree
(Generations of Mystics Died Down)

O! Reverend Banyan,
Beneath your roots,
From which abyssal the glow of
Spiritual moist you soaked,
To fill the green vacuum of your veins,
Your shadow, in every season,
Used to be cool as motherhood,
A strange mystery resided,
In your bulky extended branches,
There was a peculiar wind,
That used to wrap itself,
In the branches filled with sap
And the morning always opened her eyes,
In your oscillating lap.

In the silence of noon,
That peculiar wind,
Swinging with your hanging roots,
Fastened with arms of your thick branches
It joshed the lake clinging around your ankles,
And humming the gray silence of evening
Used to grant a mystical spell,
To your dark green leaves,
Spotted with yellow flecks,
Such a spell that had a secret link,
Between grief and bliss,

In the dark nights,
The moon and stars used to sit in the lap of your roots,
Seeking links between grief and bliss,
Until the next dawn.

What kind of lure had your umbrella-like branches?
That saints and mystics of all religions,
Squatted around your stem of enlightenment,
And quenched their hearts and souls,
With the natal-drinks of negation and self-realization,
They cleaned,
And whitened more and more their inner-selves,
They scratched the skin of falsehood,
By tasting essence of the truth: immaculate and modest,
They took terrestrial fragrance,
And peeped through the sieve of sky,
Twinkling mysteries circled them,
With the ring of light,
In this ring every glowing moment had several centuries.

O! Reverend Banyan,
Where did those centuries turned to ashes?
That were filled with blue, green and yellow lights,
Of your existence,
And why have the generations,
Of those mystics and saints vanished?

 

The Heart Of Dream Be Revealed

Let the heart of dream be revealed,
Just as drunkenness reveals upon
The quivering lashes of the eyes sunken in love,
As in the shut books,
Possibility of a rose to bloom reveals,
As to the finger-tips, reveals taste
Of the virgin touch of love.

Let the heart of dream be revealed,
So that I could see
The drunkenness of the unrevealed puberty,
The same bewilderment which I wished
To string just for once on the thread of breath,
The same indecision
To which the innocent half opened eyes
Bequeathed a trust,
And fragrance of rose and jasmine.

The core of heart imprinted,
Sans voice and sans word,
The feel of imperceptible smile
On your throbbing rosy lips;
Then to my eyes you awakened like dawn.

O! The beauty with speaking eyes
You are the soul of poesy,
Time penned several episodes
Of the bygone age,
And the threshold of each chapter is stunned
Like a sealed dream,
There is neither any knock,
Nor any sound,
Nor any breezy word,
Nor any prudence.
Would that before this moment passes,
The heart of this sealed dream should open!
And I may see what the allusion was
Of the tale of your imperceptible smile,
Now,
Being the sinner of love
What compensation for the injury
I shall have to recompense.

 

Translated by Muhammad Shanazar
All rights reserved

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