Short Poems

Last time, I think,
I'll brush the flies
from my father's face.


Translated by Robert Hass

Last night, your long-lost memory came back to me as though
Spring stealthily should come to a forsaken wilderness
A gentle breeze its fragrance over burning deserts blow
Or, all at once be soothed somehow the sick soul’s distress.

Last night you left me and slept
your own deep sleep. Tonight you turn
and turn. I say,
'You and I will be together
till the universe dissolves.'
You mumble back things you thought of
when you were drunk.

Last night I drove a car

Last night your faded memory came to me
As in the wilderness spring comes quietly,
As, slowly, in the desert moves thew breeze,
As to a sick man, without cause, comes peace

[Original: Urdu, Translated by: Faiz Ahmed Faiz]

Green arsenic smeared on an egg-white cloth,
Crushed strawberries! Come, let us feast our eyes.

What place under heaven most hurts the heart?
Laolao Ting, for seeing visitors off.
The spring wind knows how bitter it is to part,
The willow twig will never again be green.

Pain ebbs,
And like cool balm,
An opiate weariness
Settles on eye-lids, on relaxed
Pale wrists.

tall poplars -- human beings of this earth!
black pounds of happiness -- you mirror them to death!

I saw you, sister, stand in that effulgence.

Tuit cil que.m preyon qu'eu chan,
volgra saubesson lo ver,
s'eu n'ai aize ni lezer.
Chantes qui chantar volria,
qu'eu non saup ni chan ni via,
pois perdei ma benanansa
per ma mala destinansa.