red fruits of passion grow
sweetened juices of toil
quenching thirst of summer dreams.
Broad green leaves, canopy of friends
held firm with joys of maturing,
cherishing the little rain drops
cluttering over the dancing antelopes.
The birds dangle from branches
myriad creatures fluttering amok
like ideas sailing on blue waters
swift pristine walks.
Far from the fancy of doom
even from grotesque tomorrow and
the world of optimizations
where sun hides itself behind the sky
forgetting the old path to glory,
like the bird that flew all day long
all but in a caged sky,
hanging in the center of plastered living room.
This is the end
This is the end
My only friend, the end.
translated by Franklin D. Lewis:
How could I know melancholia
Would make me so crazy,
Make of my heart a hell
Of my two eyes raging rivers?
How could I know a torrent would
Snatch me out of nowhere away,
Toss me like a ship upon a sea of blood
That waves would crack that ship’s ribs board by board,
Tear with endless pitch and yaw each plank
That a leviathan would read its head,
Gulp down the ocean’s water,
That such an endless ocean could dry up like a desert,
That the sea-quenching serpent could then split that desert
Could jerk me of a sudden, like Korah, with the hand of wrath,
Deep into a pit?
When these transmutations came about
Nod desert, not sea remained in sight
How should I know how it all happened
Since how is drowned in the Howless?
What a multiplicity of how could I knows!
But I don’t know
For to counter
The sea rushing in my mouth
I swallowed a froth of opium.
raha yeh veham ke hum hain, so yeh bhi kya maloom!
you desire a mundane solace
and I cherish the easiest escape
your beloved is the nymph of Elysium
and I, too impatient for delay.you trade yourself for coins of the after world
while I drift towards the current
so who is better? you or me?
O sheikh, my friend lets join hands in the tavern
for us both search the same
your reward hereafter
mine the cup in my hand.
~Khan Abdul Ghani Khan