Poem by Ayub Khawar
Between Me And My Poem
In the yellow muddled morn,
After waking up from the green sleep,
I think to place the bowl of dreams
At the threshold of the sun.
The day breaks,
Then I leave the bed squeezing courage
To pull up the stone of day
On the top of evening;
And fill up the lunch-box
With a hope to accomplish all necessary
But half-done duties.
As soon as I step out the threshold,
I and my route go somewhere else asunder.
Stray sightedness of the noon,
In silences of the streets,
Now at the road-crosses, then in silence-assumed
Horrified drab houses covered with bricks,
Squeezed within their own selves
Is dazzled with shine of some impossibility.
The black moments, from top to toe,
Chain the heart with some nameless fear,
While walking onward, the route vanishes itself,
Then I go somewhere else,
And thoughts go astray somewhere else.
The evening devoid of stars
Honked by the troops of darkness
From all direction,
Force it to the canopy of my heart;
Terror of lances, daggers, swords, shields
Blow out the lamp as harsh wind does.
In darkness a hand cannot feel the other,
One horrifies oneself,
Pulsation breaks from the heart
And becomes a frozen drop of blood.
In such frozen darkness a collection of words
Stringed on the cord of pain shatters,
I go somewhere else;
Lines of the poems go astray somewhere else.
Loneliness trudges in the marshes
Of day and night, between me and my poem,
In the abyss of my inner self,
Fragrance sprouting from the tree of pang
Doesn’t get the passage
And enters through the arches of my heart.
A breath comes and the other goes,
Fragrance perfumes the chain of breaths
With the gusts of pain,
Adorns loneliness with gems of dew
Those hang on the lashes,
Then strikes a stone of the yellow morn,
Upon my torso through the windows
Of green sleep,
In such a way as I roll down somewhere else,
The poem goes astray somewhere else.