Swaang Poem by Muhammad Shanazar

How quickly runs time with the paces quite inaudible!
And how speedily slips snubbing the stock of delights!
How sweet memories leave behind the spots indelible!
How pleasures vanish as seasonal birds take flights!

Hardly I was only years five old and nothing was told,
About the polluting profanities of silver and gold,
I recall when my uncle took me to the village nearby,
To see Swaang 1 when the stars did shine in the sky.
Half way I walked catching fingers on the boulders,
And half way I travelled sitting upon the shoulders,
With legs around his neck, gripping his head tight,
On the serpentine way twisting now left, then right.

The drum beaters, the pipers were crowded around,
By the villagers, dancing with the rhythmic sound.
Then they sat on the cots arranged, in the circle placed,
Some sat on the walls and some on the roofs abased.
They gathered to be amused with the crude players,
Who were babblers, gabblers and nothing but sayers.

All were excited, impatient and restless were the eyes,
They among themselves were strengthening the ties.
The women were banned, restrained to share the game,
One who dared, throughout life would have to lame.

Then entered entertainers in the yard wide, spacious,
With the seemingly model lady, beautified, gracious,
Her face was too powdered; too painted were her lips,
Her bosoms were heavy and fleshy thick were the hips.
When she pounded with her heavy feet on the ground,
The excited spectator cheered, the voices did resound.
The rhythmic beat, sound of Ghanghroon1 them thrilled,
Loathsome sleeping hearts with pleasure were filled.

Blood rushed, ran into the veins of the young and old,
Some flung in the air notes and some did them unfold.
A shirtless short man dipped his torch in kerosene oil,
Kept in front of the lady to enlighten charm of the soil.
To make it clearer, more visible to the eyes capricious,
The mouths slobbered, and leapt the hearts lascivious.
The dancer’s flexible movements fascinated the minds,
And songs with the music transported even the blinds.
So they awoke the passions, which dormant remained,
Songs raked afresh wounds of the lovers that pained.
I recall, “Uncatch my wrist and wrench it not to break,
The glassy bangles, ” I listened between sleep and awake.
“What wrong I did, why do you remain afar annoyed? ”
The viewers watched, cheered and vivaciously enjoyed.

In ecstatic joy I escaped, I was swayed to the fairyland,
Much more beautiful, charming, enchanting and grand,
Than the world where Man suffers, groans and moans,
Is tortured, troubled to the flesh and marrow of bones.

Dancers seemingly ladies appeared, and went away,
Turn by turn playing their roles during the short stay,
Before the villagers, sat to be amused and entertained,
In viewers, tongue-tied, confused I myself remained.

Then the end drew near, night was to fold the wing,
Then entered Mirza, Saibaan 2 to perform and sing.
When Saibaan was eloped by Mirza the killer of love,
The rain began to down pour, the voices grew shriller.
The rain-washed, the painted powdered Saibaan’s face,
Exposing black hard masculine skin devoid of grace;
The reality revealed putting end to my confusion,
Morning broke magic of Swaang, the world of illusion.