Mystery Of Existence Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

I have ability to think that I am a being,
Therefore, I have an existence.
Otherwise this life has no justification.
I thought...then new passions grew of desires,
New palaces of wishes got embellished,
I thought of the world so there was a world,
There were the moon and the stars,
And vastness of the cosmos,
Silences and flight of imagination.
These beliefs, these traditions,
These religions and these creeds on which
Human beings have been sacrificed.

The spring of fragrant flowers
Overspreading on the grasslands,
The night and the day dissolving in the skies,
Hadn't I thought there would have been
Neither the earth not the moon,
Neither the sun, nor the sea,
Nor ferocity of the surging waves,
Nor fondling breeze would have moved
On the mountains, nor river would have
Weltered against the banks,
Neither there would have been silences,
Nor spaces, nor calculation of lights,
Neither fascination of sights, nor dust of the routes,
Everything exists for I know how to discern,
Strange is spell of the vibrant dome of mind.

Intensity of fervent love,
Tinges of elegance of the beloved,
Taj Mahal of union,
And battling moments of separation,
A thought of prolific locks perfumed
With lady of the night, and miracle of beams
Emitted by the beloved countenance,
Impatient roses falling from the beloved rosy lips,
That teeming intoxicating wine of eyes,
Volume of intents of the heart,
Opened on the warm breaths,
Immature youth entwined into cheerful yawns,
Appearance of thrill on the speckled body,
Running of acid through veins of limbs,
Overflowing pulsation in the chest,
And life getting a new tang of desires.
(They all exist because I have ability to think.)

Whenever mind composes sensation,
Delivers a new realization to life,
What is that imparts a current to mind,
Thinking, logic or resolution,
What is that which beckons me to life,
And brings me a sense of being here,
What I should name it, my inner-being
Intellect or a wonder, or I should
Name it an abstract hidden character,
Or a soul that animates the existence,
How life gets flow in deep recesses of the existence
And delivers delight and plight now and then,
It is a subject of beginning; it is a cause of decline.

What is the truth, I know not even a little,
Who I am, I know not even a little,
I am a portion of soul or opus of Enlightenment,
I am the reality of creation, or the greatest mystery,
There is something that makes me move,
Delivers meaning to my voice,
Smile to my countenance, I am whether self,
Not-self, passion or only a voice of conscience,
Or being inhaled and exhaled breaths,
Only in the deep layers of meditation,
There unravels the secret of existence,
I have ability to think that I am a being,
Therefore, I have an existence.

Written by Jagdish Prakash (India)
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar (Pakistan)