Poems by Ayub Khawar / Translated by Muhammad Shanazar

Poems by Ayub Khawar


Why the ruler of time is silent

Peace, shatters in rags
In the Holly places of supplication
In the mosques
And in the shadows of the sacred bells of churches.

Peace, shatters in rags

On the roads
In the congested streets of the bazars
In the class rooms and play grounds of schools
In the shopping centers
In the crosses
In the rallies and processions of protesters,
Against the world wide excruciating the peace and humanism.

Peace, shatters in rags every day
It daub itself with its own blood and put on the dust of graves.
Weather there ever ensue such a time,
As the residents of the world see the redness,
Only in the petals of the roses, flourishing soil of the earth

Oh! The ruler of the time
Tell us
Do you have such a moment in your possession,
As it may infuse the light of peace and harmony
In the minds of those who are bent upon to change this world
In to a heap of ashes on the earth!
Oh! The ruler of time
Do you have such a moment in your fist
As it may devour the trade of those kingdoms who engaged many countries of the world to destroy the world.
Oh! The ruler of time
Do you have such a moment in your fist
That can spread over the terror of the monsoonal gory clouds
And may the each corner of this frightened world become
Embellished with the tinges of dawn
Oh! The ruler of time
Why you have kept silence?
Weather your eyes gone dry or ………… dead.


The Whore

This darkness
Of the room why doesn’t become darker?
Memories of the past flicker on the walls,
In such a glare as the eyes don’t close.
The sleep of centuries,
Stands at the threshold of mind,
Stitching new dreams on the hem,
Of a shameless half exposing dress, like a whore’s.
Bracelet of wild promises on the milky wrist,
Gold snake around the goblet-shaped neck,
Tingle of lascivious smile leaping on the
Splendid lips.
A disk of moon on the forehead
Ornaments with glimmering of jade,
Swaying, inviting pendants on the lobes,
And chinking rings clinging around the ankles.
Who knows how long has been impatient to come in.

But the walls and doors,
And everything in the room,
Chair, table, paper and pen,
The bower of gazals, the forest of poems,
To each tree of the forest,
Fireflies are clinging like leaves.
And like these fireflies,
The twinkling glow of your eyes doesn’t fade.
How murkiness of the room
Should become darker!
How these eyes should close in such darkness!
How shall this whore hide itself?
In the corneas, behind the wonder laden lashes
Unless the darkness becomes darker,
Unless all your reflections,
Imprisoned in each object of the room grow dim.
This whore, late at night,
When reaches me after distributing
Dreams among the exhausted eyes,
Of inhabitants of the world,
It stands at the threshold of my mind;
Keeps on knocking, and begs permission
To come into, but
What miracle has happened?
In the dim darkness of the room,
Between sleep and wonder-laden lashes,
Fireflies of your eyes,
A chamber of carved mirrors
.O! God!


Translated by Muhammad Shanazar


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