Magritte Window - Poem by Sadiqullah Khan
I see it rain from Magritte window,
Crimson green, grays and gouache -
On Pavilion of Three Laughs, Wang Wi,
Gentle staff, walks with heavy gown.
And I intend to drive to Kohsar,
Hazel nut coffee, crackling seedlings,
Yellow leaves burn, smoke and water.
When it rains, clouds pour in Islamabad -
Bursting long silent skies, Margallas steam,
And a calm recourse, on my ruesome heart.
My friend Suleman Yaqub,
Offers an ink-pen of iridium nib,
Says it comes from meteorites
And may my verses be with beauty even;
We discussed, ‘chasing shadows'
And feel of presence in ‘orchard of raining petals'.
Erstwhile religions, discourses of wise,
Those who spent years in prisons
Prisoners of conscience, -now though flown
And those who spoke, sense, elegant men,
The sixties and the seventies harbored
In the rust and dust of the city of flowers.
It still rains.
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