Echoing Sounds Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

It sounds as if this day is the last day of life,
Knocks of the past have halted at my dreams,
Someone holding my fingers
Takes me along to the other side where hang
On the wall calendars of the previous many years,
Dusty worn out pages of the diary,
And old letters with inscriptions of the forsaken tales,
Some verses of unfinished poem
On the pieces of paper remind me again
The olden times that I lived in silence
All alone in solitude confined in the bolted room.
In some deserted corner of my breathing,
Where I endeavour a lot to give the name to my voices,
And give the words your tongue to articulate.
The seer of my memories has stopped
On the same mound of the past and gives forth me a call,
"Come along you too and take a look
Of the sky from here, see the same forlorn world
And the prints lost in dust of the path,
Then after get dissolved… if you wish."

In the same corner of the past amid the books
On the ebony-table there lays a diary which till now
Gives fragrance of your name.
Written by Jagdish Prakash (India)
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar (Pakistan)