An Artist - Poem by Sadiqullah Khan
I am born to be you, an earth’s smile in a flower
A stream, a rock, a tree of life, an inventor
I am blood spilled on canvas, I dip my fingers
In the ink-pot of my heart, I give tongue
To your chains. Tongues that lick your desire,
Your narcissus self. I am a mirror.
I dwell deep in your dreams, the ones
Forgotten, the ones making you hysterical.
To know you, I have slept with the bones,
Grappled with angels of hell, I lived many nights
In cold, I burned my oil for myself. I killed myself.
I wrote you to the eternity; I wept in anguish
I was torn apart between agony and ecstasy
I made you into a marble statue, a stone carving
I sang you in poems. I prayed for you, into my possession
I meditated you, broke conventions, fought evil
On the cross, beheaded, amputated, stoned
Barefoot, in the streets, gazing moon
I extinguished the wish of wanting you
“The ashes of my youth, in the Ganges
Of your love” so was the holiness of my love.
Now I look upon my hands and with my thoughts
-The illusion is not unlike the promises of Providence
After death- The illusion is akin to a mirage.
The least, “In the end, I deserved a few good lies”
And I think very often that what a dread
This meaningless life had been, these past years.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
Crouching Boy is a sculpture of the great Renaissance Italian painter and sculptor Michelangelo, preserved today at the Hermitage Museum in Saint Petersburg, it is the only work by Michelangelo in the Hermitage Museum.
Description: The Crouching Boy is a 54 cm marble sculpture and shows a naked and turned in on itself boy, perhaps pulling out a thorn from his foot. Even if the statue is not well finished, facial features, hair and body shapes are easily recognizable. @ Wikipedia
Comments about An Artist by Sadiqullah Khan
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe