Who brought you here, who in the dusk
A prolonged sunset a night held back
Who told the bird to hide, who but thirsty
On the bank of a river.
A fish, having emptied all the jars
Who but feeds water in the ocean.
Who has written you? It is whom, who
Erased you. You having been read
Before the last lines of a calligraphy
Touched in your color.
Standing on the forefoot, holding balance
The raised hand was pointed up
You ran a swan’s steps before flying
Expanding your wings, into an unknown freedom.
You let your luggage fall behind.
Who was driving the horse faster than it was,
You were not escaping.
You were neither breaking the prison walls
With an ax.
You wake up to a brighter sun,
A finer company of gracious demeanors
A host worthy of name and attendants ready
To serve. You are overlooking
The city walls, a minaret
You have been erased and you came up
With a song. Are not you surprised?
Your name carries all the fortuitous tidings ever.
Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
August 28,2013.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem