How Can I - Poem by Sadiqullah Khan
How can I measure myself against,
A poet's resume is but love,
I told her to wear bright, against
An ultimate sophistication,
And to face the dark, in deep night,
Only bright against the stains of dust,
Against green of leaves, red of flower.
Face to face, with the emoi,
The chaos of stillness to which
A raptured heart sings, to an unmoved
Beloved, to the earth's hunger
Of its sons and daughters, and the time's
Ravages. Spent, every passing minute
But who amongst the coming,
Shall lay eyes on you, shall make them small,
Who amongst the lovers, hath the courage
Of milling your sands of ego, breaking
The rocks of your softness, who?
Tell me who hath ever caught the passing
Breeze, stored forever the moments
Leaving us behind. O divine tragedy!
Hath not I seen the sweat on her face
Breathed the aroma of her clove-skin,
Could passing be so painful. O mournful
Cup, of a blissful night, she lay spread
On a wooded floor, on another hemisphere.
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