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Sham-e-Ghareeba
(The night of the homeless)
Polishing the facet of my heart,
the ultimate cache of my love - ruptured,
its dimensions torn open,
ribboned with an unsung melody of despair.
O beloved - spare me words,
drive with me to the soaring of the soul ...
empty your tear buds,
outpour all hidden empathies,
supress this fire with your cries.
what the vision sees - haunts the mind;
every cracking of the flames,
harassing the little children,
as they plaster their fears with zainab's veil.
asghar's mother condensing her love,
in a single lullaby - the sun cradled by its harmony,
filtering its warmth on a little grave,
the dust and sands of kerbala,
embracing asghar, kissing his bruised neck.
the unfolding of the curtains of my eye,
as images of distress relay the malaise,
that rained upon the caravan - looted.
an impression drawn on my heart,
as I see a child fleeing from merciless enemy,
meeting death in sparks of fire,
choosing the heat of the flare to consolidate him -
O fire be gentle to these orphans,
for their bodies are feeble -
and their hearts pressed,
under the weight of affliction.
i am crushed - the sight too painful to behold,
the sky lamenting on this oppression,
its blood-tears obscuring my prospect,
yet - the cracking of fire is heard ....
Malika
