The Sea Of My Consciousness Poem by Nida Nawaz

I ask
The crimson dusk
If blood is the color
That has come to be recognized
As the true character of each word
The individualistic pride of every poem
And the title of each book

I ask
The dark clouds
If rain is the water
That streams down from eyes
Incessantly
Drawing in its wake
Dreams, desires
And the sense of deference as well

I ask
The bright sun ambling along the horizon
If justice is the queer truth
That holds
"A man might die
A thousand times each movement
Yet should suffer
The bitter accusation
Of being alive"

I ask
The exuberant full moon
If love is the overwhelming force
That compromises the bountiful fund of trust
With skepticism
Etching unsettling boundaries of conduct
And exacting the pain of test by fire
In the process

I ask
The harsh words strewn across
If experience is the spell binding light
That shines forth
From the eyes of that temptress
Who devours
Both body and soul

I ask
The coy whiffs of morning breeze
If air rides the horse of unruly wind
To pass by the sea of my consciousness
From where
Numerous suns of inquisitiveness rise
Only to get dimmed and drowned
In the deep ocean of my own sub-consciousness
Without a whimper

I ask
And ask
And ask
Until I am sapped of all energy
Like an exhausted, bedraggled horse
I stumble down along the dark shores
Of my sea of consciousness
And die an unceremonious death.

(Translated from Hindi by Mr. Ashfaq Lone.)