Someone plucked out my lashes,
And twisted them into a cord,
Then fastened my dreams,
With the same cord,
And imprisoned,
Into the dark cell of my own torso.
Nothing is perceptible in blackness,
But a glow resembling a drop of blood,
In the twinkle of which these dreams
Like grim shadows cling to arcs of my chest,
And wait for to get released extremities.
But I have to do yet a lot of chores,
I don’t have time to see my own eyes sans lashes,
The world spreads all around me,
There are thousands of chores I have to perform,
But I am alone.
I stand stunned
For moments of life are slipping away
From my fist just as sand slips grain by grain,
Hands are becoming empty.
I have to do yet a lot of chores,
Like an old shepherd,
I have to yet lead the flock of this eve
To the farm yellow morn,
I have to see lest a petty star from my flock
Shouldn’t vanish into the dust of
Blind journey, stretched to the skies.
I have to do yet a lot of chores,
I have to get released feet of my fellow beings
From the grip of shoes made of mud,
I have to harvest yet the crop of thirst
Sown in throats of people of bygone seasons,
And clad with the dress of roses
Some brunette beings.
O! My imprisoned dreams,
I have no time to get you released
For I have to do yet a lot of chores.
Written by Ayub Khawar
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well-translated poem, language is rhythmic, these lines are beautiful- -'I stand stunned For moments of life are slipping away From my fist just as sand slips grain by grain, Hands are becoming empty.'