I sit on things unreal, an eight legged chair
Like a six armed deity, an elephant’s elegant tusk
A camel’s hump. On the long back seat of a car
Holding an ash tray, like a spittoon, changing track.
On the violable streets’ ending, dead on a question mark
And feet dragging, a zigzag memory on a metaled road
Much ado, counting on death’s approaching claws like shark
In deep sea; waves surfing under a sun of molten sand.
The night’s ever enchanting lullaby of uneasy silence
Dreams of the morning still holding the mast high:
A neighborly smile, across the keys’ clatter of resonance
A worthwhile stride, to the window sweating with rain nigh.
Sadiqullah Khan
Islamabad
July 25,2013.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem