An Idol-House - Poem by Sadiqullah Khan
With remembrance the heart becomes,
An idol-house, of such love I am smoldered!
O burn me inside out, your side-glance –
Of my tongue alas! Words it not finds.
The idol-maker’s abode in ashes turn
And the flower bud hides the little smile,
The profound presence of love puts it to shame.
O I gather myself from pieces broken
Before when I spread my existence’s tale,
Beauty, art thou a glimpse of the eternity?
Then why the mills of time play the ravages
Of the long nights, days and dawns.
Will these lonely falls of the sun, rise of stars,
Find an end. We shall raise though O the promise,
And except the goblets, what else a recall,
And the moments engraved on the lines of palm
Unvisibe, dark. Will the sun-beams shine?
O the small acts and ye shall hold the balance
Of the humanity is but face the demise,
Courage and grace, what awaits thee,
Unspeakable misery of mystery, nothing either.
Although hilarious, every spring brings
Life anew, buds grow and births afresh.
My kind, didst not ye know, for all living,
Life will come to an end, the remaining memory
Of good deeds, thoughts and gratitude only,
Or on crumbling bones by the day, by the night,
Sleeps long, but while you dance on to the cup
The only visible signs of happiness,
Otherwise, ‘their’ answers are all wrong.
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