Had you waited longer, you could
Have been diamond, had you not
Been dug, we could have frozen
In cold, and had you not been put
In the metalled hearth, topped by
Water bucket, steaming in nostrils.
Had I not been seated next to you,
I could not have written, or may
Have been breathing, my tired day's
Rise and fall, and by your side, I could
Not have narrated the day's incidental
Incarnations, sipping lemon-grass
Inventing stories, by the autumns' close.
O worthy inhabitants, adobed tranquil
O earthy faced beauties, small children
Could a mother's lap be warmer,
A lullaby, sans cradling knees, taping
Old hands, and life as precious,
As the overhanging stone, the cathedral
Peaks, shine more, or by an afternoon
We could be heading homes, for a night
Longer, as longer as dreams, it brought,
Or the morning, clear, shiny, white silver.
-While sitting by a coal hearth in Sost
Sadiqullah Khan
Sost
December 6,2014.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem