They rain from up the sky, like drops
Like the crystal glacier water, down flow
Like the fortune lines on your palm,
On the glistening oiled and perfumed skin.
Stubborn, they are broken out, pieced,
Rock's rage on itself, gravitas of thought
Converted into, like ‘kishmish', -dried grapes,
Into an apricot cake. Making memorable neck-
Laces, or ringed into fingers for their good luck.
Omens, the earth hides from us, rays of sun
Trapped into it, once they see it. They are eyes
Of the divine. Beaded to adore foreheads
Of wide denominations, and eyes glistening.
Awe-struck, possessions could never tell
Breathing stories of human love, secrete desires.
Do not lose them. Once the beloved ties,
It to your silk kerchief's corner. Like everything
Else, they are all different. These drops of divinity.
Wish stones, or rub it like Aladdin's lamp,
Monstrous genie, visit you, to talk to you.
Send messages through, and in dire need, fly
Through with, to the loved ones. They are
The hardest to break from rock, and be tamed.
-Gemstones are collected by youth on the road side, which fall from the mines on hill-tops in Hunza. I received a handful from a collector.
Sadiqullah Khan
Gilgit
November 3,2014.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem