December Poem by Iftekhar Bukhari

December

On the desolate parapets of
the abodes, perched high and low;
to the hidden peaks of the mountains
deep in slumber, for hundreds and thousands of years;
in the leafless branches of
the trees, ages old,
the cool breeze has suddenly stopped drifting
This heart of mine, is still frightened
of the nightmare of last night
Today, yet again
I am done with my routine errands,
and now, before going home, where
cold curry on stale bread
and my dirty linens are awaiting me,
I have stopped in front of that
rotting wooden door
with my freezing hands in my empty pockets
Someone is whispering,
"Listen! Silence is the tune of a ballad, long forgotten"
But, the heart isn't yet free of the mundane woes
Today yet again, in my mail
there isn't anything but the official letters
No event, no day, no face appears
in my cold eyes to shine
The daylight is diminishing fast
The snow is just about to fall…! ! !

Poem by Iftekhar Bukhari
Translated by Kamran Awan