Who knows!
When her eyes sent their own goblet of scent to me
I was on the verge of belief
And was doing my own circumambulation
The shadow, that had the nature of a mirror in its colors
And had the scent of it.
It was a glowing hour, where there was a dialogue
Where on the heads
There was a moon, whose white clad was being rinsed
By the contact of allied moments
That rusted iron
Who knows
How that lock was being opened with the key of promise
Who knows!
The bright hour, the scintillation
Which was in the perception of desire
It was like roaring clouds of belief
Which were written in the margins of a connecting letter
Page by page
Lined eyes
Dimensionless bright luminosity
In the silence of dark nights
Around that desire
Which is the throne of the bright hour
There, except me and you
There is still no occupant
(Translated by Ali Ghalib)
Poet Manzar Hussain Akhtar is from Pakistan.
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