Hello – Ayub Khavar / Translation by Muhammad Shanazar

Poem by Ayub Khavar



It is a little earlier than the dawn,
There is an illusion in the air,
Of the sparkle of glow-worms,
And the tongue has the tang of green dreams,
It is a lovely time when the wind
Wearing green anchal strolls
Placing feet upon the hem of fragrance,
And passes like a mystery
By the washed leaves and fresh twigs of the trees,

This lovely time is the moment,
Of a discourse with you,
But still silence stands
Like a sentinel by the telephone bell;
Arms of the watch pierce like daggers in my chest,
The thorn of time has choked my throat,
Just a single “Hello”
Sunk in the taste of intimacy
Each pore of my existence waits for

O! The soul of my entire passion,
In the arcs of my hollow chest,
Why pulsation of my heart has halted
Like a telephone bell?
Why the desire to talk to me has frozen,
In the phalanges of your hands,
Awake the desire to talk,
In the pores of pink petals,
Dial the number,
So that halted pulsation
In the chest should begin to move on,
May the bell ring,
Then for the long time,
To the farthest end,
In whispers,
Drizzling of the dew and fragrance,
Should begin to pour down.


Translation by Muhammad Shanazar

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