A Poem On My Own Departure / Poem by Ayub KHAWAR

Poem by Ayub KHAWAR
 
 
A Poem On My Own Departure
 
(1)
 
The wind of eve is desperate to blow
It is just the last hiccough,
Place my head in your lap,
Pull down the worn-out curtains of my pale eyelids,
And caress my forehead,
For the dew of your kiss
So that Blossom buds in each pore of my soul,
As they blossomed in our bygone days,
Fill the crimson hue of your hands
Into my cold hands,
Fill in my freezing lips,
The rainbow of your enchanting eyes
For the wind of eve is desperate to blow
 
(2)
 
With the mild petals of your nails
Lacerate my chest,
Then peek into the melting torso
Where in the bowl of my heart,
I have been saving many pangs and pains,
For the last many days;
In the water of my tears,
Mix these pangs and pains,
Along with the dreams of my told untold dreams,
And place them for a while on the flame of your cheeks,
Then give me a bath for my burial
In such a way that all the patterns of your caresses
On my frozen countenance,
And the warmth of your marble-like fingers
May get infused in my dead body.
 
(3)
 
Now stitch my opened chest,
With the untouched threads of your anchal;
For the wind of eve is desperate to blow
You know well that our
Grey eves have been conversing,
To a mysterious melancholy,
Put me in that worthless coffin
Of the same melancholy,
On each strand of which your name is engraved.
 
(4)
 
The wind of eve is desperate to blow my love!
Tighten the cords of the coffin,
Turn my face towards the Kaabah,
Ask the busiest people of the busiest world,
To come, line up,
Recite Takbeer, my dreams,
Raise their hands, my wishes,
Lower their heads, verses of my poems,
To say pray to God for my salvation.
 
(5)
 
There is yet a little time to depart.
The sill to be placed above my chest,
Is being carved,
All the moments of my life,
Are being mixed in the mud,
There is a horrific silence which only contains
The sound of a drab chip-axe of a grave digger,
And the sound of steps falling down
Of the busiest people, of the busiest world,
Return in haste to their abodes.
 
(6)
 
There left behind among the earth throwers,
Some of my dreams, my wishes,
And some verses of my poems
The dusk is about to fall,
This is the time of my farewell,
Just pull the coffin a little,
With the moist lips of yours,
Stitch the stars of the moments,
On my forehead, eyes and lips,
Twinkling of those may fill the dark, cold grave,
Until the day of resurrection.

One thought on “A Poem On My Own Departure / Poem by Ayub KHAWAR

  1. But for a few spelling mistakes, this poem touches the delicate cords of heart. Death is a sad experience for those who are left behind. But in this poem the poet has written his own epitaph. He beseeched his beloved to tend to him and honour his wishes when he is no more on this earth. Even in death he years for the soft touch of his beloved on his corpse and wish to be loved the same way he was loved by her in life.
    Each line of the poem is soaked in poignant emotions and makes the reader to associate with the mood created by the poem.

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