The stones were empty inside.
The surface looked like wood logs,
hollow, and the marble statues, a few years
old, and broken. The acropolis was like
a cemetery. The heart longed for, and far away.
Some loved ones had been remembered. This time
is like a courageous embrace of the trees without leaves.
Inside a lotus flower, some names imprinted. Beneath
the empty ponds, like barren wombs, desires had died,
with their fish bone skeletons. A deep dug door was closed,
hard with hinges. Sparrows and crows were looking for nests.
The forest without trees, and the air, was like the bouncy hips
of a walking girl. Like a mare with thick mane, dancing and running.
Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
February 11,2013.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem