The pity is that she knows,
Perhaps that my desirous heart
Beats twice on the beats of her step,
Sings extempore, my deep voice -
In musical rhythms and that when I see her,
Am housed in mirrors, fairies' companion,
Or a thought forgotten, returns vehement
Talk to myself, -O the statuesque appearance
Taller than skies, broader than earths
My vain existence, my sweet deceit
Rainbow's colors, silvers of moon
In your hemmed extensions, your river eyes.
Therefore, I, a sculptor by the night
And by the day, clast again the icons,
Neither I understand the love's delusions,
Nor my hands, I lay on her contour,
But alas! Though, the time gets filled,
Buoyant, like waves upon waves I am taken,
From state to state, when a halt -
O destiny to you when I reach,
Though, there is no beginning, no arriving,
And to you when I arrive, in you I shall travel.
Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
January 14,2016.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem