A dove with purple feathers
And a dark line around the neck
Is caught in a net. A ram handcuffed.
A white car is held in robots above
The earth. There is no loss otherwise.
Looking for a woman
The cubist's eyes were too
Apparent and the lips were made
Too red. There was a disintegrating woman,
Which was too expressive and damned.
Like a simple country music,
Bland sans all complexity.
This woman was actually not there
Nameless, she existed in lines.
The intensity of projecting a complex
Terribly harsh countenance,
Of someone who even does not know
What all this is about.
To be conscious or not to be conscious?
Will it make a difference.
No, if all are unconscious, or all conscious.
If some unconscious and others conscious?
This makes a difference.
We talked about a surrealist master of dreams,
This afternoon.
Sadiqullah Khan
Peshawar
October 17,2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem