Rafiq Kathwari, the first non-Irish recipient of the Patrick Kavanagh Poetry Award, obtained his MFA from Columbia University and an M.A. in political science from the New School. His recent poetry collection is My Mother's Scribe (YodaPress); his translations from the Urdu of selected poems of Muhammed Iqbal (1877-1938), many individually published here at 3QD, are forthcoming soon. He divides his time between New York, Dublin, and Kashmir where he was born a Scorpio at midnight. Email: rafiqkathwari [at] gmail.com
Website: https://www.rafiqkathwari.com
WITHERED ROSE by Mohammad Iqbal With what words shall I call you Desire of the nightingale’s heart? In a Country of Roses You were named Laughing Rose Morning breeze your cradle Garden a tray of perfumes My tears rain like dew And in my barren heart your ruin An emblem of mine My life a…
Blowing Her Lungs Out into a Clay Oven Mother leans against the island in the nanosecond kitchen at Farouk’s home in New Rochelle, marveling at a Miracle Icemaker as half-moons tumble into a glass bowl. She spins a Lazy Susan with glee, clicks the fire fountains on & off. “Atomic food makes stomachs ache,” she…
Karl Marx Ignites the Millennials after Mohammad Iqbal Ah! Come! How can you not be roused! You are nothing but you are everything. Recharge your IPhones. From each according to his feed to each according to his need. In times of global deceit tweeting the truth puts you in the driver seat. Road to hell…
Bolshevik Russia by Mohammed Iqbal A revelation rained on the Russians: Guardians of the Crucifix Appoint yourselves Gods of godlessness Smash those false idols Worshipped by the faithful: At heart, the world’s a whore. Translated from the original Urdu by Rafiq Kathwari / @brownpundit
One Evening in 1907 On The Banks Of The River Neckar, Heidelberg by Mohammed Iqbal The Silver moon is silent Branches are silent as well Valley birds that sell their songs are silent Mountains cloaked in green are silent Neckar flows regal under the spell of silence Embraced by the night a world is silent…
Iqbal Complains to God by Mohammed Iqbal Why should I map my own loss, not think of tomorrow, forget my profit, lose my due, grieve, ignore a nightingale’s wail, be silent as a rose? Words give me courage ‑—dust be in my mouth— I’ve a complaint. God, famous for praising You, we now can’t help…
Doctor Qureshi Dares My Mother “Maryam Jaan,” he says, “You must be proud of your son Farouk, his wealth —praise Allah— how he has made himself great in America.” The doctor’s white hair is unruly like mine, his bi-focals tipsy, his elbows rest on the mahogany table hand-crafted in Mexico for Ethan Allen, classic Yankee…
THE MORNING STAR by Mohammad Iqbal “I have the power of sight but cannot see,” Venus said, “No refuge on the morning’s hem. Is my destiny merely a bubble, a spark?” “O, jewel on dawn’s forehead,” I said, “Don’t weep. My thoughts spring from you to sustain a garden where I am a gardener, my…
YOU AND I By Mohammad Iqbal You know the secret I lack depth You govern the sky I am desire’s hostage You have a home I am a nomad You profit by interest earned I am losing the duel Your ship sails in the air Mine has no sails There is no rest in this…
Sicily By Mohammad Iqbal Ah! Cradle of a civilization tomb of Muslim culture — mole on the cheek of the sea guide in a desert of water, tell me your story, your sorrow — show me the glory of ancient days. I weep tears of blood at the distant din of Bedouins for whom the…
Jihad by Sir Mohammad Iqbal “The pen is mightier than the sword,” preaches an imam from the pulpit. In our era such sermons lack virtue: Don’t talk of a Muslim with a dagger, speak instead of a Christian gunrunner who smears a striving for truth as unholy. Ask: If war is immoral for the East,…
On Women’s Liberation After Iqbal Is a necklace of emeralds more liberating? Translated, from the original Urdu, by Rafiq Kathwari: @brownpundit / www.rafiqkathwari.com
LENIN IN THE PRESENCE OF GOD a trans creation after Iqbal, by Rafiq Kathwari God Aha! Comrade Ulyanov— Welcome! Or I should say, Dobro Pozhalovat! Lenin You’re alive? But “God is dead,” they said. God I inhabit men’s heart, passion’s home, and for a brief moment the gods themselves swayed to your tune. Lenin So,…
For My Nephew Omar On His Engagement to Nadia This small box hides a porcelain elephant rigged up in howdah and trimmings, a Kashmir-style sapphire on the forehead — an inner eye; conch shell ears fan out, supple raised trunk cradles a bird’s nest without breaking the eggs. “A matriarch of her herd,” said the…
OLD FLAME So, I took off her blouse as she raised her arms A trumpeter blared outside my window She ran her fingers through my hair I unclasped her bra Trumpeter boomed a tune I’d heard before “My husband will be angry if I stay” Tip of my tongue touched her nipple She unzipped my…
“THE PRESIDENT IS HUMAN. HE GETS SICK” — White House Press Secretary Responding to Reporters’ Questions in The New York Times, January 9, 1992 A thousand tiny dots of light: I diminish the noise. Duped smirk on aging face, eyes eclipsed by spectacles, The President, previously recorded, vomits, moving his lips slowly. Watching me watching…
Kismet “This can’t be me,” Mother says, leaning forward in a wheelchair, “Must be some shriveled woman,” “with parched skin, frayed hair,” she adds, “Not me. I’m only 30.” Mother gives me my Smartphone with which I clicked her photo during a commercial break, watching “Kismet,” Hollywood film made in 1955 when Mother was in…
A Dewdrop and The Stars after Iqbal “Tell a story,” said the stars to the dewdrop, “of a garden far from the heavens, a vanished world to which the moon sings of love.” ”O stars,” said the dewdrop, “not a garden but a world of sighs: the breeze visits only to return and the rose,…
The Day I was My Sister’s Chaperone Tall tan stranger in safari suit flew from Kenya to Kashmir to woo her at the Shalimar she raised her sari to her ankles at the fountain’s edge he rolled his cuffs to his knees. Their toes touched. She waved and a glint on her finger caught my…
Thirteen Ways of looking at Kashmir (if you can see) 1 Perjured eye Perjured I 2 Hindustan ka atoot angst Kashmir Pakistan key jugular vain Kashmir 3 Purani Kahani #JesuisWani 4 Mujahideen Summer of 2016 5 The vale of Kashmir The wail of Kashmir 6 The right to bear arms The right to bare arms…