The water drinks flames and flames the air,
Earth is the sky, my foot is on the attic
Sky is vault below, and moon chases the sun
Stones vegetate, vapors have become dew.
There is no divide of day and night,
And where the demons dwell, is paradise,
Little flowers of violet, white and crimson,
Yellow, red and green. The rose hid her face.
Beauty has over taken the sculptor’s house
Her hair encircle the lone mole on her chin,
Freedom is run, and run through the meadows
You could touch the cloud, slide down the steppes.
The musician in silence, and the few birds,
A thousand butterflies or the watchful marmot,
In leafy infestations, streams running to Sheosar.
-On a visit to Sheosar Lake, Deosai.
Sadiqullah Khan
Gilgit
August 18,2015.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem