There exists no direction,
Now,
Possibility of the journey is the dream of green sleep.
Over the perturbed souls,
There overspread omens of departure,
Under the frozen skies, in the canopy of life,
A lamp that was kindled
Departs from its own glow.
The radiant morn that was to be dawned,
The star of its fortune now lifts up its anchor,
The sky and the earth blend their entities,
There is no echo of dreams in the dome of life,
Nor the flower of peace to be blossomed,
There’s only we,
And stages of departure,
There rise whirlwinds in the wilderness,
Which contract into corneas of the eyes,
The extent to which the frozen skies you see,
Fragrance departs there from the flowers,
Before emergence of the dawn,
In company of the dead silent night,
Whatever the sound of chain had to tell
The breeze has whispered,
Amid the yellow moments,
On surface of the grave
Written by Ayub Khawar
Translated by Muhammad Shanazar
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Thank you for sharing this lovely poem, Muhammad