Life is full of bonds and sorrows,
Laden with wretched thoughts.
Yet, what remains is the carnal shame
Of planting ones leg in the vile dust,
And like a wild mushroom,
Standing up on the cliff,
Scratching one’s sores,
Unfaithful and unchaste!
Like a sick dove pecking its own breast!
Like the midday sun,
Annihilating all sights,
Hiding in a mysterious galaxy,
Your image appears to be more penetrating
Than the arrows of fatal emotions.
Why do you come before me?
The question envelops my whole universe.
Yet, silently flows the dark river
Inside my unfeeling veins.
Ask not what this world has done to me;
Just see my poise when I come in front of you,
Begging for a loaf of bread.
With nothing but a handful of withered life.
From the outset,
Your every thrust,
Blazed as fire,
Tears through my skin.
This cruel intimacy,
These drops of virgin blood
Spread on your doorstep
Are the witness of my unclaimed corpse.
‘The world is a playground’ as you said
But my heart is not a heart anymore.
It is rather a brick or a stone.
(Remembering Mirza Ghalib, the great Urdu poet.)