Poetry in Translation

Son, I Again Dreamt About You Last Night

A version after Iqbal

I couldn’t find the road in the dark,
my every hair bristled
but I dared myself and walked on,

saw boys swaying in single file,
each holding a Diya lamp in his hand,
their clothes glowed like emeralds—

God only knew where they were going. . .
I saw you at the end of the line,
your Diya unlit. “Heartbeat of my heart,”

I said, “where are you going after abandoning
me? All day I thread my tears into a necklace.
“Don’t weep for me,” you said, “don’t yearn

for me there is no gain in it for me —”
then you fell silent for a moment
looked at your Diya again, and spoke

“Mother,
do you know what happened? Your tears
of sorrow dowsed it.”

***

By Rafiq Kathwari. His new collection of poems “My Mother’s Scribe” (Yoda Press) is available here and here.